rae's CODEPINK road journal

CODEPINK to Hillary and Nancy: Lead Us Out of Iraq Now!

2007-06-20T07:52:00.001-07:00

This morning at the Take Back America conference when Senator Hillary Clinton took the stage CODEPINKers held up pink signs reading "Lead Us Out of Iraq Now!" and pleaded with the senator to bring our troops home now, to be a leader in ending the occupation of Iraq. While Hillary made some great promises about offering universal healthcare and ensuring a preschool education for every American child, and reiterated that she voted no on the last Supplemental spending bill to appropriate funds to the war, without her leadership on actually bringing our troops home with a full and immediate troop withdrawal, it remains unclear where funds would come from for these excellent domestic programs, and how we can move forward as a nation. Hillary's commentary about the Iraq war included a commentary about how the US has liberated Iraq from Saddam, helped hold democratic elections, and installed the Iraqi government. Her commentary seemed to blame Iraq for the ongoing violence, which in turn was met with loud boos from the audience. Hillary walked a careful talk today, but it was not convincing to many in the audience, who feel the only way that trust in Hillary could be restored is through her actions to end the war, not her rhetoric. As an aside, Hillary asserted that the US is the oldest democracy. I seem to remember something about Athens appearing in a school textbook. Hillary also stated that the US has the hardest working population in the world. To me, that kind of hubris does not inspire the kind of patriotism I feel for this country and the global community.

CODEPINK protested at Hillary's talk at the Take Back America conference last year as well. This year our message was a proactive one: Hillary, be a leader and bring our troops home! Take action NOW to end the war!

Nancy Pelosi made some excellent comments about listening to young people in this country, who are agitated, don't believe elected officials will take action, and are fed up with the government. She spoke about meeting with people and having dialogues. I asked her to meet with us in San Francisco, as she has yet to meet with the anti-war movement in district. Because we have not be able to meet with her, we've been camping outside her doorstep! Nancy made some excellent points about green jobs and about the need to bring our troops home, and we would like to believe that she will stick to her word--we know that she, as Speaker of the House, can do more to end the US occupation of Iraq, and that's why we were in the audience today with our pink signs and loud voices for peace, demanding that these elected officials lead us out of Iraq!

Mother's Day 2007

2007-05-13T17:33:00.000-07:00

On Mother's Day in DC we gathered in Lafayette Park across from the White House for a Peace Festival for kids and families. Hundreds of children, parents, grandparents, and others flocked to the park for games, face painting, singing, music, dancing, and fun that culminated in a kids' march on Pennsylvania Avenue, and a ceremony during which we tied pink ribbons with names of Iraqis and US soldiers killed in the war and the Mother's Day Proclamation onto the White House fence. The day was an outrageously joyous celebration of motherhood ~ all the ways that we mother each other and the peace movement ~ with a very somber and moving undertone about the severity of the need to end the US occupation of Iraq, and to speak out as mothers and daughters against war. I'm grateful that I got to celebrate Mother's Day with my mom in California preemptively last weekend, and that I was able to be here celebrating motherhood in its myriad of forms in DC. One of my favorite parts about today was clowning around with Patch Adams--we were clad in pink, but I must say that his underpants were by far the biggest around!

Click here to check out a slideshow of photos I took.
Tons of people were taking photos and video, many more photos coming soon!

Kid's activities included arts and crafts, crown making, music (banging on pots and pans), dance, face painting, a wishing well, and a bean bag toss to "put words into George W's mouth."

Bean bag toss on the park lawn.

Dana, Sonia, and Rae take a moment to pose for a photo between coordinating the action.
The CODEPINK Choir in action!

Mothers and daughters read the Mother's Day Proclamation together on stage.

This Is Leah rocks the stage.

Janine helps lead the kids' peace march in front of the White House.

Patch Adams got everyone farting the tunes of peace songs, even Cindy Sheehan! It was a joy to see him bringing out the kid in everyone.

I Miss America passes out pink carnations to the kids.

CODEPINK Gathers the Women outside the White House!

Desiree ties a ribbon to the White House fence.
The completed painted mural displayed on Penn Ave. The mural will go with the Global Exchange and CODEPINK peace delegation to Iran later this summer.

Back at the CODEPINK Activist House, women celebrate with an imPEACHment pie eating ceremony honoring all the women whose hard work made today such a vibrant success. Here, Medea gives Sonia, the DC Coordinator, a bite of the pie, and a huge appreciation for everything she's done to make this week of actions so inspiring and smooth.

Mother's Day Week of Actions!

2007-05-12T17:30:00.000-07:00

Whew! The CODEPINK DC house has been a whirlwind of action this week! Women from all over the country--Wyoming, California, Arizona, Texas, New York, Florida, Tennessee, North Carolina, South Carolina, Illinois, Indiana, and more!--are here for actions with CODEPINK in Congress and around our nation's capital! So far we've had incredibly powerful actions, time to bond and connect, great singing all the time, and we've made quite an impact! Here are some photos and highlights from the past several days in DC. There are so many stories to tell, and I've been mostly behind the scenes this week supporting local actions around the country, so stay tuned for the full backstories from the women who have been going to these actions!

Click here to see a slideshow of photos from the past several days!

Thursday, May 10

Thursday morning CODEPINK activists attended hearings in Congress--see Midge's posts below this one to read more and see youtubes about that. Lori and Gael were arrested after the hearing ended and had to spend the night in jail. Thursday afternoon we held a Congressional Tea at the Mott House. Robert Greenwald spoke with us, we heard action stories from all the myriad of different things CODEPINKers have been doing over the week, we screened Greenwald's new film, and we saw a live performance of A Single Woman, a play and forthcoming documentary about Janette Rankin, the first US Congresswoman, who voted against WWI and WWII. The room was gorgeously decorated in pink and we even had pink lemonade and refreshments. At night we held a fundraiser at Bus Boys and Poets, our favorite progressive spot in DC. The fundraiser included an outstanding performance by Emma's Revolution and an auction led by Iraq Veteran Against the War Geoff Millard, featuring hot items such as a pair of pink heels signed by Gloria Steinem and Jane Fonda, a Stop the Next War Now book autographed by Alice Walker, and a pink sequined dress worn to Bush's inaugural ball and glamorously modeled by Dana. The dance party continued late into the night!

Dana, Sonia, and Geoff present the CODEPINK Auction at Bus Boys and Poets.

Friday, May 11

Today CODEPINK activists visited the offices of the 59 democrats who voted against McGovern's bill to bring the troops home and gave these reps the "what for." These reps need to be held accountable to their constituents, who voted them in last November so they could end the war! We were especially surprised to see that Re. McNerney from California, who beat incumbent Richard Pombo (R) last November, largely on an anti-war platform, did not support McGovern's bill.

We held a luncheon with women reporters and media activists. In the afternoon we held a media training at the CODEPINK house, facilitated by CODEPINK's communications coordinator, Dana, and cofounder Medea.

In the evening we had the DC House premier screening of CODEPINK's newest film, Iraqi and American Women Speak Out in the Peace Room. It was amazing how our banner making and meeting room was transformed into a comfortable and pink movie theater, projector, couches, pink screen, and all!

Saturday, May 12

Today we had a house potluck and held a Women's Congress in the great tradition of Julia Ward Howe's Mother's Day Proclamation. We had a big group discussion and then broke into smaller groups focusing on these topics: Supporting our troops and working with veterans and military families; Direct Action and Civil Disobedience; Troops Home by the Holidays: Putting Pressure on our Congresspeople to end the war; Saying Yes to Peace; and creating visuals for the actions tomorrow. In the afternoon we were visited by the Topsy Turvy bus, check it out below! We also had a CODEPINK Choir rehearsal in the front yard! At night we screened films in the Peace Room.

Caroling outside the CODEPINK House!

The Topsy Turvy Bus visits the CODEPINK House. It says that the US budget is "topsy turvy"--too much $$ going towards the Pentagon, and too little going to all the social services.

Sunday, May 13
Today CODEPINKers are at a "Public Service" fair that is happening on the Mall. There is tons of military junk there--humvees, tanks, big army trucks, and even a simulation tent where you can pretend to be in combat. Women are outside holding a banner that says "Remembering Women in Wartime" with photos of the female soldiers who have been killed in combat, and women are inside too!

This afternoon we'll have our Peace Festival in Lafayette Park in front of the White House. I'm sure we'll have tons of photos to post from this exciting family event!

Photos on this post by Zach and Rae.

IMPEACH: Spell it out and make it happen!

2007-04-28T09:02:00.000-07:00

April 28 was an incredible day in San Francisco. Activists met in the morning at Ocean Beach for the Beach Impeach. We spelled out “IMPEACH NOW!” and then it transformed into “PEACE NOW!” CODEPINK made the "C" pink with a great turn out of pink-clad activists, boas, slips, and all! Then we marched, took the mexican bus, or caravanned over to Camp Pelosi outside Speaker Pelosi's house for a rally that included an inspiring talk by Ret. Col. Ann Wright, and singing and dancing in the street.

Check out the phenomenal aerial pics and get a glimpse of our pink “C” at http://www.beachimpeach.org/sfa28_photos.html

See a slideshow of photos I took today at: http://www.flickr.com/photos/63946635@N00/sets/72157600151704499/show/

More photos, including one of the march from the beach to Pelosi’s house, on IndyBay at: http://www.indybay.org/newsitems/2007/04/28/18406315.php

A HUGE thanks to all the organizers that made A28 such a moving and memorable occasion! CODEPINK Bay Area was also represented at the Petaluma Butter and Eggs Parade on A28. Aerial photos credit David B.

Doonesbury gets it...

2007-04-06T13:25:00.000-07:00

So why can't Congress get it together to change the messaging around supporting the troops and cutting war funds?

House Votes for War Funding

2007-03-23T19:21:00.000-07:00

Today the House passed the supplemental spending bill. Below is CODEPINK’s immediate response. We were in the basement of the Rayburn building (where many reps go to get to the underground tram to the Capitol en route to voting) with bloody hands and shirts saying “If you buy it, you own it” this morning. We had many interesting interactions with reps regarding the funding.

Peace Movement Disappointed With Democrat Funding for War;
Determined to Stop Future Funding and Bring Our Troops Home

Today, the House of Representatives passed the "Iraq Accountability Act" giving the President an additional $100 billion to continue the US occupation and associated military operations in Iraq. While this binding measure establishes a deadline for the removal of most combat troops by August 31, 2008, the conditions set forth in the bill fall far short of where Congress should be on their path to bringing the troops home. CODEPINK believes that not one more dollar should be appropriated for continued war and occupation, and will continue to push the position that Congress should only fund the safe, orderly and rapid withdrawal of all troops by the end of this year.

CODEPINK will continue to demand that Congress be accountable to the American people’s clarion call last November 7 to end to the war. Despite many expert opinions that say that the US priority in Iraq must be to support political and diplomatic solutions rather than military operations, and yet we are still burdened with an exclusively military strategy and additional funding for war and occupation.

Members of Congress who voted for the supplemental bill see it as the first small step toward the major policy shift we seek. The work of the peace movement, and particularly that of CODEPINK, has been instrumental in moving us closer to our goal to end the war. Speaker Pelosi, talking to the Democratic Caucus on the eve of the vote, mentioned the pressure she herself was getting from CODEPINK camping out on her doorstep! Congress has moved this far only because of public pressure, and to reach further, public pressure must and will continue. CODEPINK will now push for the best supplemental bill possible out of the Senate, the best bill possible out of Conference, and the best bill possible from the Defense Authorization that will be coming up in April. CODEPINK continues to fight for better funding legislation that will finally and completely end the US military presence in Iraq.

Meet with your Congresspeople during the Congressional Recess April 2-16!

Four Activists Arrested at Pelosi's

2007-03-22T16:37:00.000-07:00

Activists say “if Pelosi buys the war, she owns the war”

As the house began to debate the $100 billion Supplemental Bill on the floor of the Capitol this afternoon, four CODEPINKers were arrested taking over Speaker Pelosi’s office. As they held up images of the American soldiers killed this month in Iraq and chanted “stop funding the war,” police moved in and arrested four CODEPINK representatives: Eve Tetaz from DC, Desiree Fairooz from Arlington, Texas, Janine Bonaparte from Marin, CA, and David Barrows also from DC.

In her statement Medea Benjamin said: “If Pelosi—who was given a mandate for peace in the November election—buys this war, she owns this war. And what she owns is 3228 American soldiers killed, and those soldiers, those sons who will be killed as the war rages on.”

During the action at Pelosi's office, we held up banners that read "Pelosi, be a leader for peace" and "Pelosi, Don't Buy Bush's War". We also had a large banner with a donkey that said "Pin the War on the Donkey" and tails reading "War" "Torture" "War Profiteering" and more.

At one point, while we were speaking with the abundant crowd of reporters, we held up photos of soldiers who have been killed in the war, attached with a string. A police officer immediately snatched the photos and said they were a banner and not allowed in. We said that these were not a banner, these were the faces of the dead. Even the press looked horrified and snapped some photos of the ordeal. After putting away the pictures, we took out a newspaper with the faces of the dead printed in color and held it up. And we started crying. Not fake wailing. Not shouting. Just crying. Tears and tears and we couldn't help it, and I couldn't help it. And instead of reporters asking "Why are you here protesting?" or "What are you doing here today?" they asked me "Why are you crying?" And this is what I said:

I am crying because the Democrats' support of another $100 billion for the war means that thousands more kids my age will be killed--kid soldiers and Iraqi kids. Pelosi's support of Bush's request for money for war is a death sentence for thousands of kids. After weeks of cute, colorful, passionate actions in the halls of Congress, from caroling with the choir to valentine delivery to dog bones for Blue Dogs to pink aprons and brooms cleaning House, today was an action of a different tenor. I felt like the floodgates had come down and the halls of Congress were gushing with a bloody river. Maybe it sounds dramatic. But it felt like we were drowning in tears, in pain, in the realization of something very, very wrong. And the tragic part was that the two secretaries in Pelosi's office sat there chuckling and picking up phones, and the press liaison came out and answered reporter's questions with a blank face. My heart was pounding so loudly that I wondered why it didn't just crack the walls of the marble building. Those walls felt more sturdy and guarded than usual. How have our Democratic leaders become so enchanted by the Republican language? Pelosi has helped them back into a corner where Bush will emerge victorious. And the tragic thing is that they will tout this as a victory if it passes tomorrow.

I visited Anna Eshoo's office after the action, and her press secretary tried to explain to me why Anna is going to vote for this supplemental. He gave me the analogy of a football game, where one must work strategically one play at a time to get the ball up the field to the goal. Here's why I think that's a bogus comparison: The compromise that Pelosi and the Dems are voting for is not one step towards peace; it is one step towards prolonging violence and destruction, and killing innocent lives for nothing. The press liaison listened patiently to my opinion, and then told me that we have the same goal, just different tactics. But I am quite certain now that we don't have the same goal. The Democrats want to win. I want to see the killing stop. I want to welcome our soldiers home with open arms and fully equipped medical services. I want to see justice done to the administration. The Democrats, well, they want to win--this vote, the election in '08, the power. If Pelosi would have just come out and said, "Look, I know that this bill (or ammendment like Lee's) may fail, but I am going to take this stand because I believe in the courage of my convictions, because I am more committed to the will of my constituents and the integrity of justice." But we'll never get to find out what Dems would have done if the supplemental had been straight with Bush's desires. And now it's a mess.

Today there is a deep sorrow. Tomorrow there is a vote. Then, we will keep on working for peace...

Church of Stop Shopping goes to Congress!

2007-03-21T14:45:00.000-07:00

Reverend Billy and the Church of Stop Shopping joined CODEPINK in the halls and offices of the House and Senate buildings today! We had a lively revival preaching and singing to Congress to stop shopping for war. Highlights included caroling in front of Gore's press conference after his hearing on climate change in the House, at Hillary's office, and at Reid's office. We also visited Feingold's office, where Billy talked about being an alumn from UW, and sang a thank you song to the legislative aides, for the great work the office is doing to bring our troops home. We also sang outside Obama's.

Here are some great photos from the day:

The Church of Stop Shopping performs in front of the Supreme Court en route to the Senate.

Preachin' in Reid's office.

The Choir exits Rayburn House building with a song.

Singing in the Cannon building rotunda.
Photos by Rae. Top photo of Rev. Billy by Liz.

Disrupting Hill and Bill Fundraiser

2007-03-20T19:36:00.000-07:00

Tonight we were inside and outside Hillary's $1,000 a plate fundraising dinner at the Marriott hotel in Woodley Park, the very same hotel where George W had his Black Tie and Boots inaugural ball in January, 2005, where we were inside disrupting as well! The speech and the applause by the audience was altogether disgusting. Hillary, why can't you put your money where your mouth is and take action NOW to end the Iraq war, not if elected president!

Here's Midge Potts and Patricia Foulkrod interviewed by Liz Kimmerly about the Hillary protest, and some footage from the inside action:

Want to know more about the Listen Hillary birddogging campaign and how YOU can get involved? Check out www.listenhillary.org!

4 Years of War: Staged Occupation and Blue Dogs

2007-03-19T22:17:00.000-07:00

Today we mourn 4 years since the US invaded Iraq. We met up with Iraq Veterans Against the War (IVAW) at Union Station where they staged a street theater occupation of the city, grabbing (planted) civilians and taking them hostage. It was a jolting action to witness. But the reality is that these soldiers have done it in Iraq, and violent hold ups are the norm in many cities in this country.

We attended the 4th anniversary press conference that Military Families Speak Out and IVAW held outside the Cannon House of Reps building, and held our Don't Buy Bush's War banners up for all to see. We paraded our shopping carts full of war objects, and sung "Can't Buy Me War." We tried to take those carts inside, but security just wouldn't have it.

We went into Congress and visited the offices of the Blue Dog Democrats who are campaigning to reduce the national debt. Each blue dog has a big poster mounted on an easel outside his/her office with the national debt and the taxpayer's individual share of the debt (about $30,000 currently). We carried in the poster, asked to speak with the chief of staff, and sang a little song for them (to the tune of "This Old Man"):

These Blue Dogs, they're upset,
They don't want a bigger debt.
So CODEPINK is here to give this dog a bone;
Stop funding war; bring our troops home!

At the end of the song we held out milkbones with stop funding messages written on in perm. marker, and tied with a pink ribbon. Each blue dog rep we visited received a bone and the jingle with applause and appreciation, thus proving that speaking the language of the targeted audience is a surefire way to get the point across! Who knew that these blue dogs loved pink?

We went to a MoveOn 4th Anniversary candle light vigil in the evening and brought our stop funding war message there. To read more about MoveOn and the critical eye the anti-war movement is casting their way, click here. Check out this great photo of Barbara and her MoveOn t-shirt:

In the evening there was an anti-war art event at Bus Boys and Poets. May art prevail over war!

Blue Dog Video

2007-03-19T10:22:00.000-07:00

Check out our singing action in Blue Dogs' offices:

ANSWER March to the Pentagon

2007-03-17T22:23:00.000-07:00

Today we marched about two miles to the Pentagon with a coalition of anti-war groups led by ANSWER. It was a chilly day that turned to snow by the end. Our CODEPINK contingent marched from our women's convergence spot through a gauntlet of counter-protesters who chanted "USA" and told us we were unAmerican, traitors, lesbians, etc. I didn't find them very intimidating--they looked fearful and angry, and we were calm and peaceful, singing over and over "All we are saying is give peace a chance!" We were so joyously pink and feminine, it felt very safe to walk down the streets. Still, the counter-protesters were agresive and though I can respect their right to demonstrate, just as we can, in permitted locations, they attempted to block us on the sidewalk. The police had to intervene to ensure that we were able to walk down the street. The one shout I still can't figure out is "our soldiers are over there protecting your rights to freedom." First of all, if they're protecting our rights to free speech, then why not let us use those rights? Secondly, the war in Iraq is making us less safe at home. And last, why not ask the soldiers what they think they're over there for--many of them honestly say it's for the oil, and aren't duped by Bush's rhetoric.

CODEPINK marches through an angry crowd of counter-protesters.
Thanks to Isis and Liz for the photos in this post.

After the march when we returned to our cars, we found that one CODEPINKer's car had 2 tires slashed. Now you tell me, what's so peaceful and non-disruptive about that? I can't believe that these counter-protesters would stoop to such low and violent reactions... but I must believe it, as I spent several hours waiting for the tow truck. This nasty, cruel behavior seems to be all to symptomatic of those who believe in the war, believe in violence and military solutions as the only way to solve problems.

After being out in the cold all day, we returned home to hot soup and good company. Another day, another march for peace. Are they listening?

MUST SEE: CODEPINK Disruptions and Midge Stands Up at Valerie Plame Trial

2007-03-16T05:38:00.000-07:00

Check out this CNN clip with fearless pink Midge standing up with her "Impeach Bush" shirt on, and an exclusive report on CODEPINK's presence in hearings and events throughout the past year:

Go Midge! The word about CODEPINK's presence in Congressional hearings spread throughout the media rapidly after this act. Why do we feel the need to add our presence to the demos? If Congress won't speak up, then we the people will!

Appropriations Committe Buys War ~ Day 4

2007-03-15T23:20:00.000-07:00

Today we showed up at 7 am to wait in line to get into the House Appropriations Committee meeting to mark u the Supplemental bill. We waited for hours and when staffers, press, and Congresspeople went in, the police continued to keep us out. Though the hearing was supposed to be open to the public, no one (except a class of schoolchildren) was permitted inside. Activists were outraged at being locked out and when they questioned the cops and started shouting "Let the People In!", the cops began clearing the hallway. Gael was swept up, thrown to the ground, and arrested unexpectedly and without good reason. Check out the video of the scene here:

I waited on line patiently with another activist and a man from the American Legion for a couple more hours. I used my time in line to talk with Congresspeople when they left to attend a vote in the Capitol, and when they returned. I escorted reps to and from the elevator, reminding them of the importance of stopping the funding for Bush's war.

Finally, we were let into the room. The meeting was fascinating! At one point, Chairman Obey couldn't discern whether Murtha was proposing an amendment to the bill or an amendment to an amendment.

When the conversation turned to a discussion of the ammendments that would finance "emergency" domestic issues (like spinach farmers and hurricane relief), I could not resist standing up to offer an ammendment. I said that I would like to offer an amendment from the majority of the American people who want the troops home, that Congress not buy Bush's war, and fund domestic services instead. Fund education and healthcare, not occupation and warfare! It's simple: just don't buy Bush's war. Some people moaned and sighed, and I wish I had ore directly spoke to their resistance to hear from the public. If our reps aren't going to represent us, then we must speak up; we cannot remain silent. It's not like I want to be sitting in a windowless room all day listening to predominately old, white men make ammendments to ammendments. The point is that I feel a moral obligation to say something in light of the future death and destruction that the $100 billion will cause. Chairman Obey told me very respectfully to sit down. My fellow activista held up a pink sign. At the closing of the meeting, we stood on our chairs and sang "Can't Buy Me War" to Congress as they were filing out. Our singing made it onto CSPAN and CNN. I'm hoping it made it into a Congressperson or staffer's head too, and the chorus got wedged in there somewhere between power wielding and conscience.

Don't Buy It ~ Day 3

2007-03-14T22:46:00.000-07:00

Today we did a sister occupation of Pelosi's office in the Cannon Building. We were on speaker phone with the activists who were in her office in San Francisco. Medea, Nancy, and I met with Pelosi's chief of staff and presented her with our questions and concerns about Pelosi's supplemental bill, namely:
* What's the logic behind the seemingly backward idea that we'd start pulling our troops out sooner if the Iraqis are failing (not meeting benchmarks) than if they are succeeding?
* Why would we ever want to trust Bush with assessing and reporting on the status of the benchmarks when he's lied so many times before?
* How many troops would be impacted in the loophole of maintaining a troop presence to capture and kill Al Qaeda terrorists, protect US embassies and American citizens, and other stipulations?

Pelosi's chief of staff promised to report these questions to Mike Sheehey, the main foreign affairs staffer, and give Medea a call with the answers, since she apparently couldn't provide ANY answers or clarification. At the end of the meeting she reassured us that "We share the same goals, but have different tactics." I have already heard this several times from Dan and Melanie in Pelosi's SF office. Here's what I want to tell Nancy Pelosi: If you're not taking action to bring our troops home, then you don't share the same goal, you only mirror our goal in your rhetoric. If you won't redefine the debate to say that defunding the war IS supporting our troops, then you don't share the same goal: to stop bowing to the Republican agenda and speak truth to power. If you can't lead us out of war by cutting the funding, then your goal is the same as Bush's goal: remain in Iraq. I am still hopeful that Nancy Pelosi will recognize that indeed the only surefire tactic that Congress has towards the goal of ending the Iraq occupation and bringing our troops home IS to cut the funding.

This evening we made banners for our actions in the days ahead, and continued building our DC house!

Don't Buy Bush's War ~ Day 2

2007-03-13T21:51:00.000-07:00

Today we visited Nancy Pelosi's Congressional office dressed as personal shoppers, and told the Speaker that war is not fashionable and doesn't suit her. We sung "Can't Buy Me War" and spoke with the chief of staff. We sang through the halls of Congress, and greeted Congressmembers as they went through security en route to the Capitol in the subway of Congress. Check out an excerpt of our great press release from our action this morning:

“Speaker Pelosi, Bush’s War Will Look Terrible on You! Don’t Buy It!”

Pelosi’s Self-appointed Personal Shoppers (PSPS) arrive in Speaker Pelosi’s Cannon Office to advise her that she looks SO MUCH better sporting healthcare, education and fully-funded domestic programs, not war and occupation!

WHEN: 11:00am, Tuesday, March 13th
WHERE: 235 Cannon House Office Building, Washington DC
WHAT: A Style Consultation on a Path to Peace.

“We're hopeful,” says Gael Murphy, “that Speaker Pelosi’s intuitive sense of style and justice will prevail over Bush’s poorly designed and completely outmoded ready-to-war Supplemental that will allow this conflict to drag on for years, wreaking havoc that will spread throughout the Middle East. The mark-up is criminal and there are no returns! Pelosi’s elegant style of leadership is much better suited for this “season-of-ending-war-in-2007,” and she would look simply fabulous in a fully-funded, safe and orderly withdrawal of our troops from Iraq.

We offer her heartfelt gift-certificates, redeemable for all the marvelous domestic programs that are a much better bargain for the American people, such as healthcare, affordable housing, schools, scholarships, public safety and renewable energy. All this and more will be available for the smart shopper at 11:00 am March 13th in Speaker Pelosi’s office.
For more information visit www.dontbuybushswar.org

CODEPINK sings through the halls of Congress.

Stop Funding War ~ Day 1

2007-03-12T21:41:00.000-07:00

I flew into DC a little after sunrise this morning and took a cab (with a driver who was so supportive of our work), and arrived at the new CODEPINK house, near Union Station and the Senate buildings. The house is a narrow brick building with lovely crown moulding, hard wood floors, and three stories of bedrooms and meeting space. When I arrived there was soft yellow sunlight streaming in through the windows, illuminating the air mattresses and suitcases sparsely spread out in the rooms. The house is new to us and so we must find furnishings to build a "peace room" and outfit ourselves to host visiting activists for the coming months. We're searching for frying pans, beds, chairs, book shelves, spatulas, and peace. We're looking for passionate activists, heroic Congresswomen, and bold actions. We're gathering forks, rugs, banners, and organizational allies. And we're hungry for homecooked meals, homemade posters, homegrown movements, and homewon justice.

I spent the day driving around gathering free furniture with Joan, an incredible DC pink activista, strategizing about actions for the coming days, and connecting with activists coming to join us in DC! By late evening, we have colored the house pink with banners and photos of our past actions, planned out our actions for the week, and written a hilarious press release. And tomorrow, the actions begin (or continue, after almost 4 years of illegal occupation of Iraq, and over 4 years of CODEPINK actions to stop war and bring about peace). Check back for more DC updates!

Check out our new website about defunding war:

www.dontbuybushswar.org

International Women's Day Interview

2007-03-08T21:12:00.000-08:00

Check out an interview I did for blogher.com about my work with CODEPINK at:
http://blogher.org/node/16532

The evening of International Women's Day the Women of Color Resource Center organized Speaking Fierce ~ an evening of dance, music, hip hop, and the powerful voices of Iraq war veterans Eli Painted Crow and Anu Baghawati. It was an incredible night celebrating women's courage to speak out around militarism.

Teach-Ins at Pelosi's

2007-03-07T22:42:00.000-08:00

We are organizing weekly teach-ins at Cong. Nancy Pelosi's office at the Federal Building in San Francisco. Our first teach-in focused on legislation to cut funding and bring our troops home, namely HR 508. Here's an action report back:

About 15 peace activists entered Speaker Nancy Pelosi's office at about 12:30 in the afternoon. We were met by a staffer who invited us into Nancy’s office (we didn’t have an appointment but they “knew we were coming”) where we met with Deputy District Director Melanie Nutter for about 45 minutes. Broken heart valentines, shoes tagged with the name of an Iraqi child, and large heart posters from our previous actions were in the office on display. We offered Melanie some excellent reasons for defunding the war and reframing the debate about funding. Melanie listened attentively, took notes, and reaffirmed that Nancy Pelosi has no intention to defund the war. After Dan Bernal told us to leave the office as they had another meeting scheduled, and we very slowly exited, we continued our teach-in in the hallway outside the office. We read the text of HR 508 and role played how to respond to criticisms of defunding and troop withdrawal. We had a debrief meeting in the cafeteria afterwards.

The evening of our action, the SF Democratic Committee (DCCC) held a meeting and voted to de-fund the war!! Melanie Nutter (Pelosi's Aide who we met with us) voted for the resolution to de-fund the war, and she is an elected member of the DCCC. Dan Bernal (Pelosi's representative to the SF DCCC) voted against it. We are writing Melanie emails and calling her to recognize her important vote and tell her we hope her boss will follow her leadership! Our teach-in was effective to educate ourselves, and Pelosi's staff!

Our next teach-in focused on how funding the war does NOT support the troops. We read articles about the lack of healthcare funding for veterans and had an over two hour discussion with Dan Bernal, who had arranged for us to meet with him in a larger conference room. At the end of the meeting we asked for clarification (a written statement) regarding the ongoing assertion that funding the war is supporting the troops, and a meeting with Pelosi herself during the Congressional recess. We closed with singing "Can't Buy Me War" together, led by Steven on vocals and guitar.

On the following weekend, Bay Area activists started an encampment outside Pelosi's house! Read about it in the New York Times article at:

http://www.nytimes.com/2007/03/13/washington/13pelosi.html?_r=2&oref=slogin&oref=slogin

Can't Buy Me War

2007-03-06T22:51:00.000-08:00

Check out this new rendition I wrote of the Beatles' "Can't Buy Me Love":

Can’t Buy Me War

Can't buy me war, war
Can't buy me war

Bush wants billions more for war to keep up the bloody fight
Bush wants billions more for war but we know that it’s not right!
'Cause I voted for you Pelosi, Pelosi can't buy me war

Our schools are broke, our parks are bare, and we need insurance too,
Our hearts are broke, our soldiers killed, and we’re all counting on you
I voted for you Pelosi, Pelosi can't buy me war

Can't buy me war, everybody knows it’s so
Can't buy me war, no no no, no

Say you aren’t going to fund the war and I'll be satisfied
Tell me that you want diplomacy which bombing just can't buy
I voted for you Pelosi, Pelosi can't buy me war

Can't buy me war, war
Can't buy me war... no!

Hear the song sung and performed by musician Steven Wynbrandt here:
http://www.codepinkalert.org/downloads/Cant_Buy_Me_War.m4a

CODEPINK interrupts Hillary’s fundraiser… again

2007-03-01T21:41:00.000-08:00

This past Friday, February 23, Senator Hillary Clinton held a fundraiser in San Francisco at the Sheraton Palace Hotel. San Franciscans who have spoken out against the war repeatedly gathered outside the hotel for a rally and press conference, urging the New York senator and presidential would-be to put action behind her words and end the Iraq war. About thirty demonstrators outside the hotel handed out flyers that read, “Hillary Stop Funding War” and encouraged funders entering the event to ask Hillary hard-hitting questions about her stance on the war.

Meanwhile, five activists made their way into the private donors-only event. Two hotel guests found their way to seats in the audience, while three of us took on a new creative tact. Dressed in chef’s white coats with nametags and (mock) Hillary campaign badges, we entered the event, and when Hillary began her talk, we unfurled large hot pink banners that read “Hillary Stop Funding War” and “We Need a Peace President.” Two of us were positioned behind Hillary, which made for some excellent photos. A third was stage right, making it appear as though there was a sea of pink popping up around the room. The security people were slow to respond to us and finally took our banners and escorted us out.

On my way out I stated very loudly and passionately, “Hillary please stop funding the war!” As I was shouting, a woman clocked me in the chin and hooked her fingers into my mouth, grabbing at my jaw as if to yank it off. I felt like I was being bridled. Stunned, I didn’t speak up to demand that she be identified and held by the police. I was amazed that here in America supporters of a presidential candidate could so easily assault someone with an opinion they don’t approve of, and a Democrat no less.

I faced a similar response at a Hillary engagement with the BAR Association in San Francisco about a year ago—after holding up a banner, I was chocked by the security official, and the audience members sitting within inches of me did nothing to help me. The anger and aggression with which people react to our actions still astounds me. It makes those with contrary political opinions appear tenuous at best. After we were taken out of the event, we were detained in a small room for the remainder of the event, cited for “disrupting a meeting,” and released.

My interaction with the SFPD was pretty calm and respectable, but not all the protesters had such a smooth experience. At the start of the event, fundraiser host Susie Buell commented that she’s eager to see change in this country, and when she and another host asked if the room was ready for a woman president, the crowd applauded enthusiastically.

I wanted to applaud too. I was raised with the idea that I could grow up to be anything I wanted to be, and that women could now choose their professions freely. “We don’t have to serve the boss coffee these days, so honey you be strong and burst through that glass ceiling” was my mom’s refrain. I decided I would blast through the gender barriers in a space shuttle as an astronaut, or stomp them out while tromping through the jungle doing scientific research. So understandably, just like most gals my age, I get psyched about the idea of a woman president. But I want to see a president with values, and being a woman just isn’t enough to buy my vote. I want to vote for a peace candidate, someone who is unafraid to take leadership to bring us out of Iraq, and speaks out against any future aggression towards Iran.

Right now Hillary has the worst position on Iraq of any of the Democratic presidential candidates. Her latest call for a phased withdrawal with no end date is totally inadequate. Hillary’s new legislation puts a cap on troop levels, while units are already being deployed to Iraq—the cow’s out of the barn on that one—and her proposal threatens to cut off funding to the Iraqis if their government doesn’t meet certain standards in six months—talk about blaming the victim! Hillary said at the fundraiser on Friday, as if responding to our earlier disruption, “Yes, we do have to end the war in Iraq, and we have to do it as soon as we possibly can!” Hillary, if this is what you believe in your heart, then don’t wait to be president to do something—act now to bring our servicemen and women home and secure a better tomorrow for Iraq!

There may come a day when disrupting Hillary feels like shouting at a brick wall, or George Bush. But for now, when Hillary is still using the verb “listening” and is vulnerably vying for the presidential nomination, I am still hopeful. And I’m hopeful that Americans will keep pressuring the candidates to stand up for peace, especially those who have the purse power to make or break their campaigns. The bottom line to wealthy Democrats is this: until Hillary takes action in the Senate to responsibly end the Iraq occupation, funding Hillary is funding war.

For more info about the Listen Hillary campaign, visit www.listenhillary.org

To see more photos and stories about this action, click here to visit this blog on the Listen Hillary site.

The Occupation Project and the Movement to Defund the War

2007-02-16T02:52:00.000-08:00

Congress: If you fund the war, then you own it

The eager, uplifting hope that voters felt after the November election—when we resoundingly renounced the Bush agenda in Iraq—must now be turned into a resolve to ensure that members of the 110th Congress put their money where their campaigning mouths were and vote to stop funding the US occupation of Iraq. And if our representatives aren’t willing to make a public commitment to vote against the war funding, then it is our responsibility to put our bodies where our convictions are, and make frequent visits to their district and DC offices, occupying their staffers’ time and workplace with creative actions to emphasize the need to stop war funding. A new national campaign, the “Occupation Project,” is doing just that, and has become an activist phenomena in Congressional offices in over 25 districts around the country, from Huntington, Alabama, to Fairbanks, Alaska, with new occupations sprouting up daily.

The occupation project was initiated by Voices for Creative Nonviolence, CODEPINK Women for Peace, and Veterans for Peace, and is growing as many groups, including United for Peace and Justice, join. “The premise is simple,” writes campaign co-coordinator Jeff Leys. “Representatives and Senators: Publicly pledge to vote against the $100 billion supplemental war spending package which President Bush submitted in early February, or we will occupy your offices.”

Occupations go one step further than typical lobbying visits: from a simple reading of the names of soldiers from the Congressperson’s state, and Iraqi civilians, who have been killed during the almost 4 year long occupation of Iraq, to risking arrest by sitting in. Constituents bring shoes tagged with the names of Iraqi civilians who have been killed, and ask legislators to “walk in their shoes” and see why it’s imperative that they stop the funding to bring peace in Iraq. Some groups bring big money bags or giant cancelled checks, or take their purses and cut the strings off. Activists in San Francisco brought “broken heart” valentines to Speaker Nancy Pelosi’s office on Valentine’s Day. Senator Hillary Clinton’s New York City office is barred to the public, so activists are taking the project to Hillary’s fundraisers and town hall meetings, and encouraging “birddogging” around the country at her events (see www.listenhillary.org). In Sacramento constituents have been sitting in at Cong. Doris Matsui’s office daily for almost a month. While the Occupation Project is a national campaign, it is based on the reality that local organizers will understand what forms of nonviolent civil disobedience will work best in their locality, the best targets and the frequency with which actions will occur. Some will occupy offices on a weekly basis, others every other week, and others at key times during the hearing and vote process.

Bush’s proposed supplemental spending bill gives $100 billion to the war, but appropriates very little funds to veteran’s benefits or Iraqi reconstruction. Supporting the troops must not be confused with funding the war, despite what the GOP would like us all to think. Democrats must not allow war-profiteers to define “supporting our troops” as funding war; real support for our troops is bringing them home promptly and safely, and taking care of them when they get here. And there’s enough money in the pipelines for the troops to come home. By voting for continued funding for the war, Congresspeople are giving a blank check to Bush for future aggression in the Middle East, ostensibly in Iran. Stopping the funding is the one action that Congress can take which Bush cannot veto.

Democrats will readily criticize the Bush administration, the invasion of Iraq, and some presidential hopefuls—Hillary Clinton, for one—are now making promises to end the war if elected president in ’08. But these words fall flat if not backed up with action, namely the commitment to defund the war. It’s ridiculous for Congress to be outraged about the troop surge, even passing a non-binding resolution against the escalation, but then to turn around and refuse to stop funding the very war they carped on in their speeches on the floor of the House.

The Occupation Project is an effective tactic to stop the Iraq War funding. Since the start of the campaign, there has been a flood of national and local media attention around occupations and legislators’ positions; a dozen legislators have signed onto HR 508, the best resolution to bring the troops home; and upping the ante of anti-war activism is engaging and inspiring a new audience to get involved in the peace movement. The heart of our country—our hospitals, schools, parks, libraries, and young people—is being squeezed by budget cuts, and affected citizens are ready to let our representatives know that they must give money to healthcare, not warfare; books, not bombs. It’s time to take our teach-ins, vigils, and rallies inside, to congressional offices, where our voices count against billions that may go to furthering the war. It’s time to tell our Representatives and Senators to do their Constitutional duty, force the withdrawal of U.S. troops to the safety of their homes, and support the troops by voting against any additional war funding.

For more info about the Occupation Project, please visit: http://www.codepink4peace.org/article.php?list=type&type=192

Broken Hearts on VDay

2007-02-14T02:44:00.000-08:00

Today we delivered broken heart messages to Senators in Congress, asking them to stop breaking our hearts and start standing up for peace by voting to defund the war in Iraq. People around the country gave broken hearts to their Congresspeople's staff in local offices, especially in Chicago and in San Francisco.

Occupation Project Launch: McCain's Office Action

2007-02-06T02:46:00.000-08:00

Today we began the Occupation Project by occupying Senator McCain's DC and Arizona offices. Inside the offices activists sang the names of the soldiers from AZ, and of Iraqi civilians, who have been killed in the war. After each name, the group sang, "We remember you." 10 activists were arrested. At left is a photo of the CODEPINK group in Tucson, AZ, organized by Lee.

Hillary, if you’re in to win, stop the war spin

2007-02-05T02:40:00.000-08:00

The Peace Movement Ups the Ante on Demands to Congress to Cut War Funding
[The following piece was published in BeyondChron today. See: http://www.beyondchron.org/news/index.php?itemid=4165]

“Senator Clinton, we’re blocking your door, until you cut this web of war!” was the chant heard through the halls of Congress outside Hillary Clinton’s office last Tuesday, where activists with the women’s peace group, CODEPINK, asked Hillary to stop supporting funding for the war in Iraq. 50 activists entered Hillary's office and effectively wove themselves into a web of pink yarn and ribbons to symbolize the senator’s web of deception and the innocent people—Americans and Iraqis—caught in it. The group asked Hillary to pledge to fund college scholarships and healthcare, an issue the senator triumphs, not bombs and destruction. Activists held banners that bared slogans such as, “Hillary: Be a Woman for Peace” and “It takes an Invasion to Raze a Village,” and donned pink slips with the “Cut the Funding” message. After being forced out of Clinton’s office, six women were arrested while blocking Clinton’s door.

Those arrested included three Bay Area residents—Heather Box, Leslie Angeline, and myself. We were compelled to urge Senator Clinton to take leadership from our representatives, Lynn Woolsey and Barbara Lee, and stand up for peace. New York resident and arrested activist Sonia Silbert captured this sentiment when she said, “As young women we’ve been inspired by the powerful women who have paved the way and we’ve all been waiting to vote for a woman for president. But we want a woman who stands for values we can be proud of: the values of peace and justice, and healthcare not warfare.” Heather Box also stated, “I am here to represent my friends that are serving in Iraq because they cannot be here- and they want to be here. They want to come home and they want to be taken care of when they get here.”

Some progressives may still be asking why activists would go after Hillary. Why not keep on the Bush administration or the other neoconservative powers that be? Hillary has admitted to making the wrong choice on Iraq, yet remains unapologetic and unwavering in her dedication to continue funding this grossly mismanaged and misguided war. She is calling for a cap on troop levels, but has not addressed a timeline for an end to the occupation. She has never met an Iraq war supplemental she didn’t like, and its doubtful she will vote against the $100 billion supplemental this spring. Hillary, if you are in it to win, you better stop the spin.

Hillary prides herself on listening. We want her to listen to the majority of the people in the United States (specifically over 62% of our nation’s women) who are calling for an end to the war in Iraq. We want her to listen to the majority of our troops in Iraq and to the Iraqi people themselves, 71% of whom are calling for a troop withdrawal within a year or less. We want her to stop funding the war, and to start talking about a real exit strategy, not just a troop cap. Are you really listening Hillary? Can you hear the young women of this country begging for better education and healthcare, not bombs and war?

Back in 2003, CODEPINK gave Hillary a pink slip symbolizing our disappointment after she voted to support Bush and the invasion into Iraq. Last year, CODEPINK activists in New York City started a national Listen Hillary campaign (www.listenhillary.org),
tracking her statements and bird-dogging her as she makes appearances
throughout the country. Though she was not in her office on Tuesday, the statement
was made to her staff that women are ready for a woman president, just not one who supports war.

The action at Hillary’s office was part of a week of peace demonstrations at the Capitol. The week started on Friday, January 26, with the construction of an Iraq war memorial on the Mall. The reverent memorial, “Walk in Their Shoes,” was a large plexiglass box filled with over 6,000 pairs of shoes individually tagged with the names of Iraqi civilians who have been killed in the war. Saturday’s sunny anti-war rally was staged next to this memorial and featured speeches from a wide range of speakers, including Congressional representatives Maxine Waters, Lynn Woolsey, John Conyers, and actors Jane Fonda, Susan Sarandon and Sean Penn. An estimated 500,000 demonstrators encircled Congress in a march that lasted over three hours.

Understanding that weekend marches aren’t enough to make change, over 1000 visiting activists stayed in DC through Monday, January 28, and lobbied 400 Congressional offices from 48 states. Peace lobbyists asked their representatives to commit to defund the war, investigate the war crimes and fraud executed by the administration, and prevent any aggression with Iran. CODEPINK activists converged in the Senate Hart building and dropped a series of pink banners and a giant pink slip that read “Stop Funding War!” from the inner balconies while chanting and successfully garnering attention from Congressional staff and stopping business as usual. After the banner drop, California activists met with legislative aides from the offices of Senators Boxer and Feinstein. Both meetings were so large—greater than 40 people—that the groups had to remain in the atrium of the building. During the meeting with Feinstein’s aides two parents who lost their child in the war spoke, and the group presented the staffers with a pair of children’s shoes tagged with the name of an Iraqi toddler who was killed in the war. It’s up to us to keep bringing the heart into the debate, and to ensure that our elected officials don’t forget the mandate for peace under which many of them were elected in November.

This week also marked the death of beloved lifelong activist and author Molly Ivins, who commanded us in her final column to take action: “We are the people who run this country. We are the deciders. And every single day, every single one of us needs to step outside and take some action to help stop this war. Raise hell. Think of something to make the ridiculous look ridiculous.”

Today, Monday, February 5, President Bush is expected to release his request for more funding for the war in Iraq. Activists around the country will begin the Occupation Project—a sustained campaign of civil resistance to ensure that their representatives will not support further war funding. So in the name of Molly and all of the lost lives from the war on terror, let’s give ‘em hell.

J27: The People Surround Congress

2007-01-27T22:21:00.000-08:00

Today was a herstoric peace march that surrounded Congress. Read about the week of actions in my blog above about Hillary.

The pink slip towers above Congress!

The Walk in Their Shoes display on the mall.

See photos and action report backs at: http://www.codepink4peace.org/article.php?id=1322

Treasure Maps

2007-01-22T21:29:00.000-08:00

Natalia and Mary gave this absolutely fantastic workshop in Half Moon Bay on intentions for 2007. Check out Mary's site at: http://thefiberofeden.com/

America Says NO to Escalation

2007-01-10T03:03:00.000-08:00

Vigils were held around the country to protest Bush's call for a troop escalation of 21,000 more troops for the Iraq occupation. 21,000--can you imagine? That's like sending 21 high schools full of kids to fight for their lives in a violent situation that the US presence is making worse daily.
I took part in a vigil outside the Federal Building in west LA with the amazing people of CODEPINK LA.

BCI II: Spirit (Re)treat for the New Year

2007-01-05T03:03:00.000-08:00

Ariel and I road tripped down to Simi Valley, in southern Cali, for a five-day experience at the Brandeis-Bardin Institute, which is basically a beautiful retreat center complete with houses, sanctuary, ropes course, and dining hall, nestled in hundreds of acres of sprawling hills with brambling brush and the occasional cave, and some rocky mountainous areas. There we joined with 40 other folks, most of whom had done a summer program on the property, including my best friend Dena, Rebecca, and Shira, and we dove into imaginative writing class, hiked around the hills, sang, chatted, and had this absolutely incredible experience. It's this Jewish retreat space where I met the world-acclaimed passionate, exuberant, talented boy Steven. Ariel stayed at BCI to start a 6 month environmental action project called Sheva. I went to Los Angeles and stayed and stayed for two whole weeks. At the end of my trip, when I left LA, there was heavy snow cover on I-5... a majestic ending to the trip.

Rockstar sisters atop a mountain.

The all-star band trio after planting a tree.

This is a photo of a plant sprouting out of a hillside that was burned by a recent fire. There hadn't been fire there for over 50 years. Some seeds need fire to germinate, so there are now flowers appearing on the land that haven't been seen in 50 years! Sometimes we need fire in our bellies to take action. Sometimes beautiful things come out of what can appear to be destructive.

New Year's Eve Peace Party 2006

2006-12-31T02:01:00.000-08:00

CODEPINK's New Year's Party was a huge success--a true night to remember! I can now add party planning for 500+ folks to the activista resume. We created a list of over 25 major organization cosponsors, rented the entire Zeum kids' arts and tech museum, booked DJs, spoken word artists, live bands, and singer/songwriters, got food donations and catering, a liquor license, and did the publicity to sell hundreds of tickets... all in less than 3 weeks!

See a video and slideshow of the party here:
http://www.codepinkalert.org/article.php?id=1311

Read some great New Years Revolution Resolutions here:
http://www.codepinkalert.org/article.php?list=type&type=187

Rae and Ariel, as the best Man-Date-for-Peace ever

Xmas with the Family

2006-12-25T21:22:00.000-08:00

Ariel and the Giant Christmaka Apple. The apple was delicious. So were gifts under the tree from Santa. And most scrumptuous was the time with the fam.

Progressive Holiday Parties and Peace Mandate

2006-12-20T01:57:00.000-08:00

As Christmas and Chanukah near, every non-profit has a holiday party to attend. By the end of the season, I've had my fill of h'or d'erves from Costco platters, and free glasses of tasty wine on a nightly basis. One notable party was the holiday party that the new Speaker of the House, Nancy Pelosi, hosted at the Fairmont hotel in SF.

After the election we breathed a sigh of relief, reconnected with the grassroots organizers, and developed the Mandate for Peace campaign to ensure that the new Congress would take immediate action to bring our troops home. We were dismayed that Iraq wasn't even mentioned in the agenda for the first 100 hours of Congress.

Find more info about Mandate for Peace on our website here:
http://www.codepinkalert.org/article.php?list=type&type=185

Front Page News: Chez Ghetto

2006-12-13T01:34:00.000-08:00

Will and I make the front page news, not because of the peace rally the day before, but because we eat breakfast outside on the promenade on homemade cardboard furniture a la "Chez Ghetto". Gotta love it.

Here's the article that appeared in the local Santa Barbara paper on the front page:

STREET EATS

Using cardboard boxes to create a different kind of outdoor dining experience, Will Parrish and Rae Abileah enjoyed breakfast in front of Paseo Nuevo on Monday in a version of a French cafe they call "Chez Ghetto."

The duo said they were inspired by the hustle and bustle of holiday shoppers at the State Street mall.

"We wanted to have a good meal in a fun setting, and facilitate more interaction with people," said Mr. Parrish.

They created the eye-catching dining set in about 45 minutes at Mr. Parrish's house some three blocks away, then wheeled it over in a shopping cart.

Monday's fruit and other breakfast items came from a nearby eatery, but the 24-year-olds say when they return on Sunday -- and again the following week -- they'll bring homemade fare.

MICHAEL MORIATIS / NEWS-PRESS

Santa Barbara Peace March and Arlington West

2006-12-12T01:38:00.000-08:00

At the invitation of Military Families Speak Out coordinator Dinah Mason, Sam Zanne Joi and I traveled in the CODEPINK truck from SF to Santa Barbara. We arrived on a drizzly day for a rally with an incredible line-up of speakers, including Iraq Veteran Against the War Geoffrey Millard, Ret. Col. Ann Wright, David Swanson, and many others. Sam and I read a poem that we wrote together, which is below. A large contingent of CODEPINKers from San Luis Obispo wore pink cleaning outfits and talked about sweeping Congress clean of warmongers.

After the rally we marched down to the beach where the Arlington West crosses were set out. We stood next to the crosses for many minutes in memorial. It was a powerful, solemn day.

Peace Warriors
By Zanne Joi and Rae Abileah

“Warriors, warriors we call ourselves. We fight for splendid virtue, for high endeavor, for sublime wisdom, therefore we call ourselves warriors.” –Aunguttara Nikaya

We would like to call into our rally today those warriors who are rarely praised or honored.

To the women warriors who bury their dead, care for the wounded, and clean the battlefields of their countries and homes.

Stop the war.

To the women warriors who have survived rape and assault while serving in the military or just trying to walk home at night.

Begin healing.

To the warriors for peace who have the audacity to envision a world without wars—Barbara Lee, Helen Caldecot, Dolores Huerta, Aung Sang Suchee.

Create peace!

To the warriors who walk without weapons and are vulnerable to those who are armed to the teeth.

Stop the war.

To the warrior activists whose weapons are words, art, music, their bodies.

Begin healing.

To the warriors in Iraq who are organizing orphanages, providing safe drinking water, healing the sick with limited medicines, and daring to march in the streets of Baghdad to call for peace while surrounded by guns on all sides.

Create peace!

To the warrior who refuses to serve in Iraq.

Stop the war.

To the soldier who returns from battle, lays down his weapon, and becomes a warrior against war.

Begin healing.

To the warrior who resists enlistment and says, “I will not kill.”

Create peace!

To the warrior who dares to raise her son to believe that peace and equality is the only way.

Stop the war.

To the warrior who searches for the good heart inside every person.

Begin healing.

To the warrior who risks her job to teach peace and the history of resistance in the classroom.

Create peace!

To the warrior who understands that killing a terrorist, an insurgent, a child is like killing a part of himself, the warrior who knows we are all connected.

Stop the war.

To the warrior who chooses to give up the privileges of a country fueled by war and embraces a vision of a country fueled by compassion.

Begin healing.

To the warrior who risks her life to report the real story in conflict zones in war and in conflict zones in the newsroom.

Create peace!

To the warrior in Congress who faces accusations of not supporting our troops when she votes to defund the war.

Stop the war.

To the warrior who knows better than to give up after one rally, one vigil, one election and keeps showing up every day for peace.

Begin healing.

To the warrior who steps out of rank and retires to join the anti-war movement.

Create peace!

To the warrior on duty who is ordered to arrest peaceful demonstrators and chooses to negotiate with her commanding officer on their behalf instead.

Stop the war.

To the warrior who marched into the front lines to grab her son by the ear and drag him home.

Begin healing.

To the warrior who doesn’t make convenience and affordability excuses to justify damaging the environment. To the warrior who protects and honors the most valiant warrior—the mother earth.

Create peace!

Disarm, disarm these warriors shout through the bars of ridicule, the walls of hopelessness, and the noose of misunderstanding. Disarm. Lay down the weaponry of your fear, hatred, and hurting.

Stop the war.
Begin healing.
Create peace!

Birthday, Birthing a New Congress

2006-11-07T01:53:00.000-08:00

I celebrate my 24th birthday this year with a family and friends gathering at my cousin's house, amidst busy preparations for November 7th, the mid-term Congressional election. On Election Day, voters resoundingly renounce the Bush agenda in Iraq and vote in a Democrat majority in the House and Senate. On Election Day, Sam, Marie, Judy and I drive around all day getting out the vote, holding impromptu vigils, and at one point we are driving through strip malls and residential neighborhoods with Marie on the bull horn saying, "Give peace a vote! Fire Pombo! Quita Pombo!" It was a magnificent effort. One notable defeat was that Aimee Allison, a veteran of the Gulf War and a phenomenal woman who stands up for peace and justice, did not win a seat on the Oakland City Council.

Walk in Their Shoes: Tahoe Trip

2006-11-06T01:42:00.000-08:00

CODEPINK started a powerful national visual expression against the war called Walk in Their Shoes: collections of men, women, and children's shoes each tagged with the name of an Iraqi civilian who has been killed in the war. The exhibit recalls the powerful imagery of the piles of shoes in Holocaust memorial museums, and the boots exhibit from the Quakers, called Eyes Wide Open.

We took the shoe display on the road to many small towns and cities throughout the Sierra foothills ~ Rep. Doolittle's district, to a rally where Laura Bush was speaking, and to Pombo's (now former!) district to to emphasize the need to vote for a peace candidate.

It was wonderful to connect with folks in every little town, and to feel the power of the shoe visual.

It is impossible to really imagine what it would be like to walk in the shoes of a person who has lost her entire family to murder, and painful to see long rows of shoes lined up, imagining what they would look like (or could have looked like) if so many (650,000) Iraqis weren't killed.

For more info about the Walk in Their Shoes exhibit, and to find out how to create your own, visit:
http://www.codepinkalert.org/article.php?list=type&type=176

Think Outside the Bomb Youth Conference

2006-10-22T01:29:00.000-07:00

On the weekend of October 20-22 students from California and beyond gathered at UC Santa Barbara for a weekend conference about nuclear disarmament. It was inspiring to meet so many young folks dedicated to real change and resistance.

Two weeks ago North Korea became the eighth country to effectively test nuclear weapon power. Three and a half years after the US invasion that failed to uncover weapons of mass destruction, US military forces continue to occupy Iraq. Tensions between the US and Iran continue to escalate. With no sign of interest for dialogue, negotiation, or reconciliation with North Korea, Iran, or Iraq from the Bush administration, the potential use of force and nuclear weaponry is once again a frightening possibility.

Darwin said something that moved me which I will paraphrase here: “Peace activists love to say that nuclear weapons have no use and the world will be such a better place when these monsters aren’t around anymore. But the truth is that they have a use—they are actively pointed at other countries to maintain power and oppress others… If you accept that they have a use, then you can begin to work to make life difficult for those who benefit from these tools of fear… Ethical arguments aren’t working… Direct action is. Small resistance battles won’t disarm nukes. It’s time to make things ungovernable with the use of nonviolent direct action."

In the final moments of the conference students made commitments for action by filling out pledge cards. Their pledges will be posted online on the website (see link below), and conference organizers avow to stay in touch with participants to support their work and help them realize their goals.

The hot conversation topic looming on all the UC students’ minds was the battle between the University of California and the University of Texas for ownership of Los Alamos nuclear Students are planning a large protest outside the next UC Regents meeting at UCLA.

Who’s Thinking Outside the Bomb?

The next generation.

For more info about Think Outside the Bomb, visit: http://thinkoutsidethebomb.org/

Bismarck Peace Conference

2006-10-14T01:16:00.000-07:00

A Lighter Shade of Red:
North Dakotans Take a Stand for Peace

It’s seven a.m. and the sun is rising. It’s an ordinary sunrise for this part of the country: a giant glowing orb appears on a perfectly flat horizon and proceeds to lift itself into the heavens, slowly and magnificently casting rays of crimson, peach, and pale yellow throughout a massive sky. Bits of light fall on the lapping shores of small lakes, cling to the tops of thin branches of denuded fall trees, and bounce on the highway divider markers. The light removes a purple cloak from fields that stretch on and on without a mountain in sight, occasionally interrupted by a few kriss-cross blocks and low buildings demarking a city. For a moment, a pink hue floats just above the earth, and gives the impression that peace is everywhere.

This is North Dakota, a state with little over 650,000 inhabitants, allotting it only one Congressional representative, less than a handful of colleges, few multi-story buildings, but no shortage of wheat fields. Towns preserve an America that is fading in the west: mom and pop shops, wide avenues, 50s-era architecture, and not a Starbucks in sight. One would think that this sparsely populated state would be as staunchly conservative as can be; after all, this is “red country,” there are two large air force bases, and the state’s next door neighbor is South Dakota, where women’s reproductive rights are threatened with extinction. One might expect to find dubious stares or outright insults if caught with an anti-war bumper sticker or tshirt.

It is also a state with a budding peace movement. On a speaking tour visit to North Dakota this past month, I discovered another side of the story. I experienced a state rich with Americans using common sense to deduce that something is wrong with the current US foreign policy.

Amidst the blank stares and vague yawns, I found students eager to talk about how to create world peace, how to be advocate for social justice, and what to do to bring our troops (namely, their friends) home from Iraq. During one presentation, when I timidly mentioned the Department of Defense statistic of how many of our soldiers have been killed in Iraq, two teachers interrupted and preempted what I was about to say by asserting that 2751 was a low calculation, and that we had to look at the number of wounded soldiers, and also the death count of Iraqis, recently released to be over 650,000.

And when, in one class, I was able to bring up the live website, www.nationalpriorities.org, and show the students how much of North Dakotan’s tax dollars are going towards the war—$402,000,000 and growing—there was a collective gasp, and one student said, “that could have gone towards more scholarships for our education.” This student approached me after class and told me about how she had to work double shifts at the local Walmart to make ends meet.

In two classes I passed out pink post it notes at the start of class and asked the students to write down one wish or hope they have for a change they want to see in the world. Almost every sticky note returned with the words “world peace” or “bring our troops out of Iraq”. Taking these little pink slips as evidence that students were willing to take action, I urged them to vote and to fire those elected leaders that were not working towards peace through democratic process this November. I also highlighted the Books not Bombs campaign, which encourages students to walk out of school on November 7th. Even the most outspoken anti-war professors got a little uneasy around that idea!

Sure there were kids with stories about friends who fought in Iraq and want to go back, and one young man even walked out when I said the word Iraq at the start of a class (I later found out he had just enlisted only days earlier), but I was surprised to see the majority so deeply in favor of an end to the war.

Over the weekend I spoke at the statewide annual peace conference at Devil’s Lake State College, which drew a crowd of about 65 people from small towns and cities scattered throughout the state, including businessmen and women, a youth dance troupe, a carload of Canadian environmental activists from Winnipeg, two foreign exchange students from Norway and the Sudan, a humble 81 year old World War II conscientious objector, a government employed soil scientist, and the president of the college. When I talked about

After a brief presentation at a Sunday church service, the first question from the congregation came from a sixteen-year-old young woman who asked, “How can I join CODEPINK?” People were inspired to hear that women around the country are standing up for peace with creative demonstrations and courageous actions. That’s the phenomenal thing about the CODEPINK women’s movement: it doesn’t cling to the coastlines, but rather drifts through the Midwest and the south, with strong established local groups in St. Louis, Missouri, Tallahassee, Florida, and Dallas, Texas, and now an interested group of young (and young at heart) women in North Dakota.

The receptivity of North Dakotans to ideas of peace and an end to the occupation of Iraq are not so surprising when we look at the reality of that state. North Dakota has born the brunt of this war, as second in terms of the loss of soldiers in Iraq per capita. Over 350 North Dakota National Guardsmen and women are currently stationed in Iraq. Both senators and the representative are Democrats. And, nationally, over 67% of Americans are now in favor of a troop withdrawal from Iraq. The peace movement may not be omnipresent in North Dakota, but people have common sense and can see the toll this war is taking on their communities.

On Monday, local peace activists gathered at a busy city intersection in Bismarck during “rush hour” and held a peace vigil with drums and hot pink signs reading “Vote for Peace” and “Honk for Peace.” To my surprise, the honking almost drowned out the drums! We handed out Give Peace a Vote pledge cards, inviting people to take a pledge for peace campaign info, and we sang, “All we are saying, is give peace a vote!”

Four people draped a pink banner reading “Give Peace a Vote!” over the ledge of the fourth floor of a nearby parking garage, and, ultimately, were not arrested. Our demonstration included a group of high school aged women, and several kids.

The police responded to a call from the parking lot owner asking that the activists be arrested for trespassing with kindness and patience. When one man started jumping up and down, red in the face with anger, and said to the officer, “Can’t you see that they’re trespassing?” the officer replied, “Well, then, I guess so am I!” We were peacefully escorted out of the building with no charges, and for the record, were never given a warning to desist from our action while in process of displaying the banner.

I left my CODEPINK banner with the group as I waved goodbye and departed for the airport… and I’d like to think that I left a little residual pink all around the state.

I prefer the red and orange sanguine shades of sunrise to color coded terror alerts any day, and traveling to North Dakota was a powerful reminder that I’m not alone in the conviction that we must revere life, that real family values are about nurturing, not bombing, families.

Visit the North Dakota Peace Coalition at: http://www.ndpeace.org/
The North Dakota Peace Coalition tables at farmer’s markets and community events, distributes “protect our troops, bring them home” info pamphlets and yellow magnets, and organizes art and music peace performances. They plan to have a holiday campaign to promote peace toys and troops home for the holidays.

The Declaration of Peace

2006-09-21T22:50:00.000-07:00

The Declaration of Peace campaign culminated in civil resistance at the White House and a breathtaking CODEPINK banner drop (or drops!) inside the Hart Senate Building. As the pink banners dropped, we sang "War is Over if You Want It" and our voices echoed through the marble building. It was exciting to see the "Give Peace a Vote" banner that my mom and I painted together dropped over the railing of the Senate building.

Here's a pic from our Give Peace a Vote march to the premier of the "US vs. John Lennon" documentary. You can see the Bush Chain Gang puppets in the background.

See photos and read blogs of the Declaration of Peace actions at:
http://codepinkalert.org/article.php?list=type&type=168

Camp Democracy

2006-09-15T22:44:00.000-07:00

There's this building energy around needing to be in DC for an ongoing period of time to keep pressure on the White House and Congress to do the right thing and end the Iraq War. A coalition of groups got together and created an encampment on the Mall called Camp Democracy. CODEPINK participated with a women's day of teach-ins, including a session with Howard Zinn, and singing led by Emma's Revolution. We painted giant boxes pink and went around town collecting Give Peace a Vote pledges.

Check out Give Peace a Vote at:
www.givepeaceavote.org
(hey, it's CODEPINK, we have a new website for every major campaign ;-)

Power to the Peaceful!

2006-09-11T22:42:00.000-07:00

Around 9/11 Michael Franti hosted the annual Power to the Peaceful festival in Golden Gate Park. We were there with pink tiaras and tutus and Give Peace a Vote sign up sheets. Merrymaking, signing up voters, and savoring good music under a typically cloudy SF sky.

Here's what Michael says:
"You can bomb the world into pieces, but you can't bomb it into peace!"

Hope and Fear: Burning Man 2006

2006-08-31T23:36:00.000-07:00

Burning Man 2006 was an epic journey in the Blue Oasis, the white playa dust, the glittery light-bright glow stick nights, the illuminated Waffle, and the champagne pop of engagement. I couldn't help bring the pink spirit to the playa, and hope to return with a pink women's tent one day.

CODEPINK Activist Retreat

2006-08-22T22:31:00.000-07:00

This August CODEPINK held our first-ever national activist retreat in Austin, Texas. About 150 women from all over the country came together for arts, movement, and training at the beautiful Crossings center. To read about the retreat and see photos, visit:

http://www.codepinkalert.org/article.php?list=type&type=164

CODEPINK cofounder Jodie Evans was the visionary behind the retreat and it was a magical several days. Here's a photo of Jodie with Rha Goddess, who led a RantFest and a session on finding our voices and connecting with our creative energy through writing:

I drove out to the retreat in Texas from San Francisco in a convertible bug. It was an incredible journey--driving over highway 152 with the top down and soaking in the majesty of the golden, rolling hills of California, and visiting friends along the way. The desert was stunning, and I stopped for a dip in the pools in Balmorhea. At night, driving under the majesty of stars was incredible. Visiting family and reaching the Crossings at the end of the journey was a wonderful gift.

Troops Home FAST!

2006-07-05T22:14:00.000-07:00

This summer we started a campaign called "Troops Home Fast": a national fast and hunger strike to bring our troops home. The fast began on the 4th of July in DC and around the country. To read about the fast, visit www.troopshomefast.org. The fast culminated in an offer from several Iraqi Parliamentarians to meet with fasters in Amman, Jordan to discuss their plan for reconciliation. At the time, the Lebanon-Israel conflict was raging, and the delegation that went to Jordan traveled to Lebanon afterwards to meet with refugees and express their distress over the situation. Many people continue to fast once a week to make a personal sacrifice in honor of the lives lost in the war, and give the money they would have spent on food that day to an organization (like CODEPINK or Iraq Vets Against the War) that's working to stop the Iraq War.

I fasted for about two weeks and helped organize a public daily fast outside Senator Feinstein's San Francisco office. I had so much energy while fasting, and felt so clear about our work for peace. Our fast culminated in a visit to Feinstein's office--we were not allowed upstairs, but through the communication of Iraqi Sureya Sayadi and Iraq War Veteran Eli Painted Crow, we were able to meet with some aides in the lobby, and presented them with thousands of Give Peace a Vote petitions and banners. To read about my blogs from the SF fast, including our experiences camping out at Feinstein's new home, and an audio clip from an interview, visit: http://www.codepinkalert.org//article.php?id=1086.

Read about the fast outside the Capitol in Sacramento at:
http://www.troopshomefast.org/article.php?id=1104

Mother’s Day 24 Hour Vigil at the White House

2006-05-14T21:50:00.000-07:00

CODEPINK held a herstoric 24-hour event outside the White House on Mother's Day weekend. CODEPINK women (grandmas, mothers, and daughters!) came from around the country to participate in the event. Patch Adams joined us in a fantastic pink outfit. We held teach-ins outdoors on the grass and stayed up late into the night strategizing and bonding. On Sunday the sky held us through our final cheer and demonstration at the fence of the White House, before bursting into a downpour of rain as if to be crying with us.

My favorite photo from Mother's Day:

To see photos and read blogs, visit:
http://www.codepinkalert.org/article.php?list=type&type=141

On the Road with Entisar

2006-04-13T00:58:00.000-07:00

I had the opportunity to travel with Dr. Entisar Ariabi for one month through the East Coast. To read my daily blog entries and see photos, please click on the link below. I blogged every day of my travels with Entisar through Alabama, Florida, Massachusetts, and New York.

To read my blog from the Iraqi Women's Speaking Tour:

http://www.womensaynotowar.org/article.php?list=type&type=119.

Iraqi Women Arrive in New York City!

2006-03-04T22:06:00.000-08:00

Today I arrived at sunrise in the concrete jungle of Manhattan to meet with three Iraqi women who have come to the United States through CODEPINK to share the realities of the Iraq War and push for peace. These women, Faiza, Entesar, and Eman, carry with them compassion that is beyond familiarity, tenderness, surprising humor, ferocious grace and determination, and a pain that is not imaginable, a hope that cannot be based in their rational daily experiences of bloodshed, but must instead derive from the fierce optimism of the human spirit, the relentless desire for freedom that is beyond the false term "democracy."

We will spend two days in New York, a week in DC, and then each woman will be on tour in a different part of the United States. For more informaiton, please see www.womensaynotowar.org.

For kicks, check out www.michaelmoore.com!

Sorry State of the Union

2006-01-31T10:28:00.000-08:00

This is from Sam Joi, activist extraordinaire who helped coordinate the third annual State of the Union party in San Francisco:
Hi folks!

Thanks to all our fabulous CodePINKer's who braved
bushisms and busheets, and a little right-wing back
lash as well, Tuesday nite to join us at Union Square
Sports Bar to SPEAK-OUT against the lying, people
dying, and spying regime we're fighting against.

We had a raucus time reacting to Bush who seems to
still think saying it makes it true - and we'll
believe whatever he says! We played Liar's Bingo,
recorded pages & pages of his lies, and ended the
evening with a little ruckus of our own at Lefty
O'Doul's, which we have dubbed "Righty" O'Doul's.

For more sordid & lengthy details, check out http://codepinkjournals.blogspot.com
(This is Sam's blog, which was the inspiration for this blog--check it out!)

Hillary, You're Not Listening!

2006-01-28T10:32:00.000-08:00

Published on Tuesday, January 31, 2006 by CommonDreams.org
by Rae Abileah and Nancy Mancias
(http://www.commondreams.org/views06/0131-28.htm)

On Saturday night, as demonstrators gathered outside, five CODEPINK women protested the war in Iraq during Hillary Clinton's speech at the Bar Association fundraiser in the San Francisco Masonic Auditorium. In two separate disruptions, banners were draped over the balcony followed by chants, "Hillary, stop supporting the war. Listen to the people!" The first pair of protesters were peacefully escorted out of the auditorium. The second pair were forcefully wrestled to the ground, cuffed, choked, and led out by the hair while the fifth activist tried to intercede. The two of us writing this letter were hauled into jail, where we remained until released at around 3 a.m. with a citation for trespassing, though we were ticket-holding members of the audience.

The big question many people are asking us is: why Hillary? Why not focus on the Bush administration? Though Hillary finally admitted that if she had known that there were no weapons of mass destruction in Iraq, she wouldn't have voted to authorize the war, she does not address a timeline for an end to the occupation. Last July she called for an increase in the size of the army by 80,000, and she recently characterized Congressman Murtha's call for Iraq withdrawal as "a big mistake." Hillary is quick to criticize the state of our Union, but she seems reticent to attend to the state of our foreign policy in Iraq.

Hillary was presented by the Bar Association as a viable candidate for the 2008 presidential race. If she would stand up and lead us out of this war, we could look to her as an example of a courageous politician. After all, courage is in standing up for what you believe in and being honest with your constituency, not standing by and watching as the young people you are representing are shipped off to an illegal war.

Hillary has stated that part of her job is "to listen." And that's precisely what we want. We want her to listen to the majority of the people of the United States who are calling for an end to the war in Iraq, specifically, to 62% of our nation's women, who believe the U.S. should bring the troops home from Iraq within one year (Gallup poll, Dec. 2005). We want her to listen to the over 30,000 women around the world who have signed onto our Global Women's Call for Peace, calling for an end to the occupation and the violence in Iraq (see www.womensaynotowar.org). We want her to stop funding the war, and to start talking about a real exit strategy.

And you can bet that as long as she continues to turn a deaf ear, we'll continue to speak out for what we believe in: a more peaceful and just world, a true democracy, and an end to the violent conflict in Iraq.

2006: Women Say No to War

2006-01-09T08:39:00.001-08:00

CODEPINK just launched a new campaign called "Women Say No to War" to bring together US women like Alice Walker, Congresswoman Barbara Lee, Susan Sarandon, Cindy Sheehan and Dolores Huerta with women from countries such as Britain, Canada, Australia, Mexico, the Philippines, Japan, Jordan, Iran and especially Iraq. The purpose of this campaign is to tell our leaders - and the world - that women have had enough of the senseless war in Iraq and we want the foreign troops and foreign fighters to leave Iraq now. We want to get at least 100,000 women from around the world to sign our global call by March 8, 2006, when we'll deliver the signatures to the White House and to US embassies around the world. In only one week, more than 10,000 women have signed the Women's Call for Peace. Please join us in sending a powerful message that women worldwide have said "Enough!"

To make this effort truly historic and successful, I’m asking for your help:

Please sign the call TODAY: Go to http://www.womensaynotowar.org . (To my male friends: Men in solidarity with 'WOMEN SAY NO TO WAR' are invited to join us by signing the call and participating in March 8 events.) I’m pasting the text of the call below this email—read it under the included quotes.
Then forward the call to everyone you can think of—your friends, family, foes, former teachers, future mentors, your grandma and your niece and your best friend’s sister...
Help organize a local Women Say No to War event on March 8 or join us in Washington DC.

Together, we can make 2006 the year that this illegal and immoral war ends, and the year that we significantly increase our peace building endeavors, from our hearts to our neighborhoods to beyond our borders.

2005: Rae Says No to Antibiotics and Yes to Real Health

2006-01-05T08:53:00.000-08:00

2005 marks the first year of my life that I have not been on antibiotics for chronic sinusitis and other health issues. This is my most exciting accomplishment this year. Well, that and trying to stop the war...

A quick update about my life: I am living and working in San Francisco. I started traveling and doing election work with CODEPINK in the fall of ‘04, spent two months organizing in NYC in the spring of this past year, and was on the road for much of the following months working on various projects addressing the local cost of war, countering military recruiters in schools, and general grassroots organizing. After the September 24th peace demonstration in DC (where I was arrested outside the White House—My first arrest, and joyous it was—singing and dancing all the way to the jail house!), I began working as the national coordinator of CODEPINK’s local chapters. This gives me the opportunity to work closely with women around the country (in over 230 cities!) and in England, Ireland, Brazil, and soon to be Figi (where a new chapter just started yesterday!). I hear inspiring stories about what’s going on in small towns and in big cities to spread awareness about this war and the current administration, like tales of Peace Picnics in the park in London, held in lieu of protests, which have been banned within 1 km of the Parliament; stories of demolition and rebuilding in New Orleans in the devastating aftermath of Hurricane Katrina; and accounts of street theater actions outside military recruiting centers in which actor-activists dramatized the lies military recruiters spin to convince predominately underprivileged youth to sign up for travel, adventure, cash bonuses, job training, education, and honor.

At the start of December, I had the opportunity to journey to Italy for a speaking tour with a group called Donne di Pace (Women of Peace)--we toured the northern part of the country, speaking to high school and college students, the general public, and the government—it was an incredible experience. I wrote all about this trip, my summer road trip from Atlanta, GA, to Los Angeles, and so much more in my online blog at http://ravenjournal.blogspot.com/. I’ve done some writing this year, including: a counter-recruitment article published in LoudMouth, a feminist zine (see pp.10-11 of the downloadable .pdf file at http://www.calstatela.edu/usu/loudmouth/loudmouth.swf); a chapter on non-military alternatives in a forthcoming book entitled 10 Excellent Reasons Not to Join the Army; a poem that will appear in a women’s anthology called Sisters Singing; and some minor news pieces. I am currently making a hot pot of Sonya’s homemade chai tea, and in the coming weeks, I will be working to assisting our local groups in planning actions for International Women’s Day, March 8. If you are interested in planning something where you live, please let me know and I will help in any way I can.

I am settling into the pace of life in the Bay Area—reconnecting with friends from high school, staying in touch with the East Coast crew and the post-college diaspora, creating a strong community of friends here in SF including the ever-inspiring and dynamic Art in Action folks, and spending time in my hometown with my parents and with my cousin who just moved to the wild west from Kansas City. My stepdad is teaching me how to surf and this morning I actually stood up for a few breaths ;-) When not donning pink wigs, hanging out of a window doing a banner drop, or else mass emailing, I find myself hiking in the redwoods, cooking portabello mushrooms and roasting marshmallows on the gas stovetop, playing balderdash, fighting parking tickets, writing poems on scraps of paper, singing with friends, learning how to use my iBook and iPod (after being a pc person forever), and watching movies and reading books (current recommendations include Control Room, Hero, and the all-time favorite, Out Cold; books—The Kite Runner and Seymour Hersh’s Chain of Command). I’ve broken my heart open to so many new dreams and sensations, and I find myself awestruck by it all.

New Year's '06

2006-01-01T00:00:00.000-08:00

Cuban revolutionary party at Medea's--a smashing success... the government said we couldn't go to Cuba, so we brought Cuba to San Francisco. Photo is entitled "Seeing Double"--the theme of the party was to come dressed as your fave revolutionary. My friend Roni and I decided that Medea and Kev would be a fun pair to pose as for the evening.

And good times were had by all!

French School Presentation and Au Revoir!

2005-12-08T21:27:00.000-08:00

We awake in the dark and we’re on the road in an instant—barely time to eat some porridge, pack, play some hip hop songs for Jordan, and say au revoir to Montoleo. Kristin connected me with her friend who is an English teacher in Carcassonne and she arranges to have me come and be a guest speaker in her class of 14-15 year olds. Kristin and I get to speak to the class for almost an hour. I ask the kids what words come to mind when they think about America. They say “BIG” and “rich” and “Bush” who is “a little crazy.” I talk about CODEPINK and how we started and what we’re all about and why it is important for women to speak about politics and to learn how to be strong leaders, and I show them our slideshow of creative actions and projects. I congratulate the French on not engaging in the Iraq War and I answer their myriad of questions. When I show the slide show, they all lean in and squeeze together and climb on the desks to get a better look at my small laptop screen. I look up at them and they are such a beautiful group of young people—all bright and interested and vibrant and trying to understand my English and excited to learn. The presentation goes by very fast and at the end the kids stay to sign up their email addresses and to get info about CODEPINK, including my last business cards. A group of seven young women are the last to leave and they tell me that they want to start a CODEPINK at their school and have pink buttons and wear pink. I get the idea that it would be great to connect these students with a French class at a school in the US. We part with the Rise Up song in call and response. Kristin and I leave the labyrinthine school and go out into the rain (of course it is raining a few hours before my departure).

Kristin and I weave a wondrous path through the city: into the vintage store and through the corner patisserie and all around the home decorations store which has so so so much pink and fuchsia and we reach the plaza and see the ice skating rink and the farmer’s market and all the very bright orange carrots and creamy ginger roots and bins of green leafy bundles. Then we are meeting up with the teacher once more and we are zooming back to Montoleo because I have forgotten my essential notebook with all my notes from the Donne di Pace tour at Kristin’s house. We make a vegetable stir-fry for lunch and Kristin and I get some more real time to talk so even though I feel bad about forgetting my notebook and making us have to drive all the way back, I am grateful for this time and the quiet of the house and nourishing food and the opportunity to listen to Krishna Das and Deva Premal and feel as if for a moment time has stood still and Kristin and I can talk about all the politics of life at home—in Tucson and San Francisco—and savor every bite and every last moment. I leave with my notebook and a heap of gratitude. The good thing about gratitude is that when you acquire more, it actually makes you lighter; it defies the laws of nature that way. The teacher drops me off at the tiny airport in Carcassonne and in no time I am on the airplane again. Ryan Air is great because I get three seats to myself and I meet a really sweet Norwegian medical student and the flight attendant hand writes me all the ways to get from the Stanstead airport to London Heathrow. It is weird because they charge for non-alcoholic drinks and they sell scratch tickets to win prizes as a benefit for charity.

I land at London Stanstead airport and take the train into the city center--Liverpool Street. There I spend some time talking with Ravi, the man who works at the bag check desk, and then outside with the British Red Cross canvassers, who give me great ideas about what to do with my limited time in London. Because my plane is delayed, I have enough time to eat a good Indian meal on Brick Lane and walk around the city, watching as all the Christmas decorations go up. I make it to Heathrow by around 11 p.m. and am home by midday Friday. Chris greets me at the airport and we go straight to the office. A little work and then home to face jetlag full on and begin the alluring game of catch up... o me, o life.

Tanque Verde in France

2005-12-07T21:26:00.000-08:00

We sleep in and awake to the chimes of church bells, which ring on the hour and half hour here. I awake congested and nauseated with a very painful headache, the kind that portends the moon cycle. Kristin makes rice oatmeal with cooked apples and more ginger tea and we lounge about the house until midday when we decide to go for a walk. Once sufficiently bundled with many, many layers, Jordan and I swordfight on the porch and then we all three depart and wind our way through the town. We go into the big town church and the saints and large Jesus paintings stare down at us ominously. The place is quiet, but not entirely somber, it is grand but not grandiose, it id decrepit in some places—the sagging staircase, the faded altar, the chipping paint and the bent candelabra—and modern in others—the community announcement bulletin board, the gas space heaters adjacent to every few pews. I am reminded of how overpowering the architecture and the imagery in churches can be when I glance over and see how Jordan wants nothing more than to leave this place. To me, this place is relatively non-threatening, for a church. Worn floors of stone and soon we are outside again in the fresh crisp air. We walk up and up and up passing the little houses and their shuttered windows. I see the beautiful garden that Kristin planted and the rushing stream and the funny art installation pieces, like a petrol station built into the rocks. We walk so far up and out of town that we emerge into farmland, from which we can see a beautiful view of the snow covered Pyrenees mountains. The photo I did not take is a portrait of Kristin and Jordan against this stunning background. Since I didn’t make the picture, it is firmly framed inside my heart. Then we are walking into a big forest—strange to be tromping through a forest which reminds me so much of California with it’s pines, or New England with the crimson fall foliage, with this pair of friends who I know of only through the climatic lens of the desert. Some things don’t change: Jordan and I are still on the hunt for beautiful crystals and quartz, digging them out of the ground with sticks; prickly pear cacti dot the landscape with their purpling fruits; we go into a canyon with rushing, rambling water and a big yoni pool; Jordan climbs the rocks. We play hide and go seek but I stick out like a sore thumb with my big pink coat and hat, and Kristin is easy to spot in her white jacket. Jordan hides in a pile of leaves and sticks and is very hard to find. We see an ATV and also a horse-drawn carriage on the trail. We gather branches and pine cones for kindling and pick fresh rosemary.

Back at home I rest, feeling my body’s exhaustion, and I sleep through the afternoon, awaking after dark. Jordan and I greet the evening with hangman and attempts at fire building. Kristin gives me an acupuncture treatment while Jordan makes monkey noises to distract me from the pain. Jordan goes to sleep and I curl up next to the fire watching the flames until they die out and only glowing embers remain. If love is like this, then I love the part with the glowing embers—I think it is the most beautiful to see the flames fall into these wooden gems, bright fuchsia and soft pinks, and when they break apart into smaller coals, they glow more brightly. Kristin prepares the hot water bottle and I hold it on my belly and we talk until we fall asleep.

Torino to Carcassonne, France

2005-12-06T21:25:00.000-08:00

Less than three hours after successfully printing copies of the Donne di Pace contact sheet and working online for an hour, I am awake again (read: went to sleep at 3 am and woke up at 5:45 am). I can hear Dena’s chiding. I know this is not good for my health. I pack quickly and go downstairs for the goodbye/see you laters—we all pile into the van for one last spin around Italy to get each woman to an airport or a train. My ride is short—three blocks to the Torino train station. A quick departure in the still dark morning, Ciao, Dobreutra, Goodbye. I arrived in Italy with little idea about the women I would meet; I leave with a new Italian father and eight new mothers!

I board the train and promptly fall asleep. I wake up intermittently, each waking is a still frame of an 8 mm film: Dark desolate train station stop; pink smear in an aqua sky quivering over a field of snow-dusted grass and wine vines and inside the train a gaggle of high school boys en route to school; tall, jagged snow-covered peaks; rock walls; piercing sun that burns through my sleep; then the French conductor is asking for the ticket and everything has changed—the little cobblestone houses, the scrambling rocks and the Mediterranean scrub forest, the language and the demeanor of the people. I remember all the reasons why I love Italy so much, a place that is becoming a new home, and all the ways that the French terrain is still so foreign, with its plump distribution of vowels, glittering sunshine, and neatly arranged harbors. But the next snapshot is desert-like: prickly pear cacti, red rocks like Sedona, sage-colored brush and Spanish-style houses, and to the left the sea. Home is always a relative term.

I arrive after dark in Carcassonne and as I crest the top of a flight of stairs, I see Kristin and Jordan and a friend who has driven them to the train station. They are bright and glowing and it feels as if I am in a dream-- having planned this journey for the past two weeks--that is at once surreal and tangible. We pack into the car and zoom towards Montoleou—a small village further inland. We wind our way through the little streets of this castle-like village and then pull into the street of Krsitin’s house. We go up the white staircase and into a house that is made of the most beautiful wood I have ever seen. The floors and sidewalls are all finished with a light oak, and in random places old stones or planks of dark wood jut out. We eat together—the most warming squash and coconut milk soup and chicken and fresh ginger tea—and then we make a fire and we sit by the fire talking. Jordan curls up and falls asleep on the corduroy beanbag chair and Kristin and I talk into the night.

Poems from Italy

2005-12-05T23:33:00.000-08:00

Poesia di Italia

On Activism

When they ask you why you do this you will tell them…
It is because I suffered greatly, and responded with peace.

When they ask you why you do this, you will tell them…
It is because I could not bear to see the suffering of others any longer.

When they ask you why you do this, you will tell them…
It is because I realized that their suffering was my suffering.

When they ask you why you do this, you will tell them…
There was never a why, only duty.

This is a choice that bears no resemblance to choice.

Whirling Dervishes

One day I will wear all white
And I will spin and spin and spin
Until I know not whether it is from my chest
Or between my legs
That my sex overflows,
Dangles.
I will know not the intention
Of my outstretched arm—
A violent stroke,
A slap in the face of the wind,
Or a caress,
Stroking the air like a new lover.
Is the gasp first taken after resurfacing
From a turn with the seafloor
An aggressive attack
Against death,
Or an ecstatic swallowing?

One day I will wear all white
And I will spin and spin and spin
Until I know not whether I am body or breeze,
Or both—
Lovers reunited.

The Game of Telephone

How are you?

How are you? Come va?

Come va? Cac di lam?

Harasho.

Harasho. Benne.

Benne. Good.

Good. Spacibo.

Shadow Light

There are many spokes of the sun
The moon has only one shadow
Of bright light on the ground.
Imagine a house with all the lights on as if evening
But it is bright and clear outside—
A Magritte painting—
Do not sit as a dark vessel in the sunshine.
Light up your being so that your shadow can dance on the earth.

Udine at Night

The heater is snoring intermittently,
An occasional motorist outside,
One neon meringue light burns
A hole through my window.
Otherwise, darkness.
In several hours:
The jagged mountain ridge appears
Like a child’s first handmade paper snowflake;
Above it strips of indigo, cobalt—
Oceanic air.
A splash of pink and the night is gone.

Zalina (Sublimation)

Your eyes cry out to me,
Yet your figure remains solid—
You defy the laws of matter:
Your heart is not burned in the wake of explosion;
You do not shrink and yet you have lost so much.
Like crème brule
You do not break on impact.
But your eyes give everything away in their liquid.
Sorrow, a vapor that hovers around you.
This bittersweet sublimation.

Postage stamp of a land that we used to live on

The reservation.

RaeSpeak: Presentations in Italy

2005-12-05T20:03:00.000-08:00

During the first week of December I was blessed with the opportunity to travel to Italy to take part in the 2005 Donne di Pace (Women of Peace) tour. What follows is an account of my own presentations, and then short bios of the women of peace written from my perspective, as well as a chronological narrative about the trip. For the full text blog, please visit http://ravenjournal.blogspot.com.

As the youngest Donne di Pace, my talks are always prefaced by my age and an emphasis on my youth. People repeatedly want to know why I do this work at such a young age, so I have become quickly accustomed to speaking about my personal experience—a bit about my life story—domestic violence, contemplation of military service, college scholarship, environmental justice work, travels, etc.—and how I can see the universality of peace from the individual to the galaxy, and also how this work is a choice that does not resemble a choice (see the poems entry), in that I feel it is my duty to do this work.

In every lecture, I describe CODEPINK (Codice Rosa: Donne di Pace), detailing our mission statement as follows: CODEPINK is a women-initiated grassroots peace and social justice movement working to end the war in Iraq, prevent future wars, and redirect our resources into education, healthcare, and life-affirming activities. I also speak about how CODEPINK includes men, while primarily aiming to build capacity and confidence in women to take action politically, because we have been disenfranchised from the political process. I speak about how Costanzo is a model CODEPINK Man for Peace: he has dedicated his life to documenting women’s stories and conflicts through film and by coordinating of speaking tours; and he has mastered the art of “stepping up and stepping back,” creating spaces for women to speak their truth without an authoritarian or guiding demeanor; he lifts up those around him while not compromising his own personal strength.

I speak about CODEPINK’s campaigns, namely counter-recruitment, the local cost of war, legislative actions, dogging public officials, and raising our voices against the war in creative ways on the grassroots level (through our over 250 local groups) at vigils, demonstrations, in classrooms, with overpass banner drops, etc. I talk about how these methods and others are helping to chip away at the pillar of war and corrupt power that we are up against, and how we are seeing more and more victories as time passes (the military not meeting recruiting goals, public opinion favoring a pull out of Iraq, legislative bills such as McGovern and Murtha’s work, the weakening of the “coalition of the coerced,” the turning point at Crawford, Texas with Cindy Sheehan last summer, for example). I list some of the elements of a real exit strategy, including no permanent bases in Iraq, the intervention of international peacekeeping forces, and real rebuilding strategies not based on corporate profit.

I speak from the heart about my personal experience, the violence within my family, the divorce process that left my mother and I with little money and pushed me to think about joining the military to get college, my experience speaking out against domestic violence in high school and the empowerment and confidence this gave me, my scholarship award and college experience, and my subsequent environmental activism and social justice work, with the understanding that violence between people and the earth, or between two cultures or countries, is no different really from the violence between two people, within a family. (How is that for a run-on sentence?) Luckily, most of the speaking engagements were translated, so I had time to breathe and really feel out what I wanted to say between each phrase or idea.

At the speaking event in Aosta on Sunday, I included in my personal story the account of my experience in El Salvador, the lifting of my deep depression caused by my experience of the joy and light of the families I worked with and dually my awareness of the immense suffering—loss of people to the civil war, the hurricane, and the earthquake—of the people there. I talked about the Western anti-depressant pop-a-pill culture and the way in which solidarity work that is done with compassion and in an interfaith way can open the heart and clear the mind. I then bridged this

At the University of Udine, I asked the packed classroom of conference attendees several questions: How many of you are high school students? About 30! How many are college students? The majority. I spoke a lot about student activism and the power of the individual to make a difference. I get the sense from the Italian youth that I speak with that they are wholly aware of what is going on politically, specifically with reference to the Berlusconi administration, Berlusconi’s control (i.e. ownership) of the media, the war in Iraq, the US imperialism. However, my Italian peers seem to feel unable to affect change with regard to these issues. Because colleges don’t have “campuses” the way we do in the US, it is harder to have clubs, associations, and school publications, such as a daily newspaper or journal, virtually don’t exist. I do learn that there is a Women in Black group in Udine, and there was a project called the Peace Tent for a while, which was set up at the weekly market in the plaza, the center of town, and featured info about the war. Because the war has dragged on for so long, this project is no longer in existence.

In Milan at the Peace House, I open with a particular thank you to the Peace House organizers who have launched the campaign for clemency for Stan Tookie Williams. I speak about my personal experience and about CODEPINK, and then I note that during a previous woman’s presentation, the CODEPINK Women for Peace banner half fell down so that only the “Women for” part was visible. I talked about how sometimes in our activism it is easy to be anti-Bush, anti-corporate America, anti-war, but we can lose sight of what we are for—peace, environmental justice, equality, joy, the celebration of diversity and unity. During Zalina’s presentation, she apologized for being so emotional. During my talk, I spoke about how I believe that it is this emotional vulnerability that our world so desperately needs, that this warming energy is what women can often offer, since it may still be more socially acceptable for us to emanate our emotions. I also spoke about the universal language of peace, which transcends our issues of communication between Italia, Russian, English, and also, at this event sign language—a couple with a baby came who were hearing impaired. I sat with them throughout the event and wrote down what was being said in mixed English, Italian, and pictograms. I discovered that they had come from far away to see Habiba, because she helped them when they were having difficulty getting pregnant, and now, after two years, they wanted her to meet their two-year-old child, Lapo.

At the Aosta event, I spoke at first about gratitude. Grandmother Sarah had said that Gratitude leads to Knowledge, and one of the government officials said that Knowledge leads to the absence of doubt or fear, which leads to no violence (it sounds a bit awkward because I am reversing what the latter said—rather than saying “without knowledge”…). I suggested that in our modern world our society has forgotten the importance of gratitude; in our rushing, our consumption of fast food affords no time for blessing; we rarely pay enough gratitude to our mothers, to our ancestors, to the earth that feeds and holds us. I then talk about the lack of gratitude that we—the US—must have to continue to fight a war based on lies on the very soil that was the cradle of life, fertile Mesopotamia, where the currently political borders of Iraq are now situated. Then I add that from gratitude we arrive at inspiration, and inspiration leads us to dream, to hope, and to work for change. I talk about how peace is not only the absence of violence, but is the cultivation of compassion, kindness, friendship, and respect. This is why it was not enough for me to escape the suffering I experienced as a child; I needed to engage in activities affecting compassion and kindness outward (and inward). During this talk, I incorporated into my personal story my work in El Salvador, my depression during college, and a conversation about how even amidst all the suffering I witnessed in the families I had worked with in Salvador—loss of life from the 12 year civil war, the hurricane, the earthquake, and damaging development initiatives from foreign superpowers—there was a pervasive joy and a celebration of life that was astounding. I said that it is this quality of joy that we must cultivate in our activism, so that we know what we are fighting for, and we embody the spirit of peace. I talked about how this spirit of humor and celebration was what enticed me to want to work with CODEPINK, and then I went through my CODEPINK spiel, including the pillars of war and how we are working to chip away at the foundation and build a new paradigm. I said that we must all be midwives of peace, assisting our loved ones, and our enemies, in the spiritual and practical birthing or manifestation of peace. This means also helping those in power—men, presidents, terrorists, etc.—find peace. I brought up my concern that often people go to conferences and lectures and become intrigued and inspired, but leave and go back to their lives, business as usual. I held up the sign up sheet and encouraged folks to sign up and also to put down a new year’s resolution for peace in the notes section. At the beginning of the event the regional senator spoke about how the Aosta region is known for its mountains, mountains which carry a deep mystic nature, and also hold the history of warfare, as they were a strategic battle staging ground. I added to this description the metaphor of a mountain as a power hierarchy, and I talked about how what we so desperately need are not more powerful solitary leaders, but rather a new paradigm in which people work together and feel empowered to affect change in their everyday lives. I reminisced about the Peter Pan fable in which the children are asked to clap if they believe in fairies, and told that every time a child stops believing in fairies, a fairy dies. I asked the audience to clap if they believed in peace, and I talked about how if we stop believing that a world without war is possible, then indeed more innocent people will continue to die. And then I reasserted that it is not enough to believe, we must act. I held up the day’s local newspaper and showed the audience an article about Alice Walker and then read the last paragraph from her essay in our book, which talks about making peace with joy. After this event many people had questions and wanted to sign up for CODEPINK. The local government gave us each a big, colorful book with photos of Aosta and a history (with English!) of the region. I was intrigued to learn that Aosta is an independent region within Italy and has been independent since after WWII. As an independently governed region, they are financially autonomous, using their own discretion to spend collected tax income, and they make their own local laws, school systems, and healthcare facilities. If only we could do that in California…

On the last day we speak in Torino at a high school built in a building that used to be a bomb manufacturing facility—talk about transformation! I have a short amount of time to speak so I focus on the young women in the audience and talk about having self-confidence and courage. Then I ask the whole group to raise a hand if they are activists; of course, there are almost no hands in the air. So I ask if anyone has helped their parents during a difficult time, then if they’ve helped a friend in need, if they’ve done something to make the earth a more beautiful place, to protect the environment—recycling, etc., and finally if they’ve spoken out when they saw something unjust happening. By the end of all these questions, every hand has gone up at least once. So then everyone is an activist, I tell them. I talk about how being an activist is looking out for the common good for your community, and how one person can become an activist by transforming individual acts for the family or for friends into acts for the larger town or country or the world. I talk about the way that military recruitment works in the US and why we think that while the US is fighting offensive wars based on lies, the military is not a real job opportunity.

Finally, at the end of every event, I encourage the participants to take action, and I list some of the actions from our 10 things to do to stop the next war now essay by Medea in the book.

These are my favorite passages from the CODEPINK Stop the Next War Now book to quote during the speaking events:

"We were women and children who loved ourselves in the form of Iraqi women and children because we knew that to love ourselves as humans meant to love ourselves as all humans. We understood that whatever we did to stop war, we did it not for the 'other' but for a collective us. The heart enjoys experiencing the liberating feeling of compassion; it actually expands and glows, as if beaming its own sun upon the world. That is the warmth our cooling emotional world so desperately needs to preserve its humanity. It is the savoring of the ecstatic nature of impersonal love that lets the peacemakers of the world do our job. It is this love whose inevitable companion is not only peace, but happiness and... joy." --Alice Walker

"Individuals have international duties which transcend the national obligations of obedience. Therefore [individual citizens] have the duty to violate domestic laws to prevent crimes against peace and humanity from occurring." --Nuremberg War Crime Tribunal, 1950

"The new paradigm will not be about conquering people, but about collaborating with people. It will not be invading people, it will be inviting people. Not occupying, but offering, inspiring, and serving people. In the new paradigm, there will be time to feel, to heal, to grieve. Unexpressed grief often becomes violence. Expressed grief becomes wisdom. As a nation, instead of grieving over September 11, we retaliated. We bombed." --Eve Ensler

"It isn't enough to talk about peace. One must believe it. And it isn't enough to believe in it. One must work at it." --Eleanor Roosevelt

"Women may be the one group that grows more radical with age." --Gloria Steinem

"We, the women of one country, will be too tender to those of another country to allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs." --Julia Ward Howe, 1870 Mother's Day Proclamation

"Life is a tragedy for those who feel, and a comedy for those who think. It is vital to mourn for the victims of this government but not at the expense of losing our sense of humor. Our ability to laugh coincides directly with our ability to fight. If we can make fun of it, we can transcend it." --Margaret Cho

"You were born with potential.
You were born with goodness and trust.
You were born with ideals and dreams.
You were born with wings.
You are not meant for crawling, so don't.
You have wings.
Learn to use them and fly."
--Rumi, 13th century

Zalina Tauchelova

2005-12-04T10:52:00.000-08:00

Zalina lost her two daughters, 8 and 15 years old, in the terrorist attack of a school in Beslan, Chechnya, one year ago. On the first day of school, terrorists seized the school and held the children and teachers hostage before detonating bombs. In only four days after the attack (Sept. 1-4, 2004), the mothers of these children had organized themselves to find the truth about the attack and to see justice done. The Mothers of Beslan is a group that epitomizes political activism from personal suffering. Zalina tells us that she wants to bring mothers from all over the world together to make their voices heard so that tragedies such as this will not be forgotten or repeated. The Mothers of Beslan met with Putin, but Putin has yet to fulfill his promise to find the truth about the terrorism. Zalina said that one of the most difficult things was to see the mother of the terrorist who bombed the school bless her son before he went off to do this terrible act. Costanzo made a film called Don’t Forget Beslan that documents the tragedy.

Throughout the trip I parallel Zalina’s story with Cindy Sheehan’s suffering and activism. Yet somehow I cannot get past the fact that Zalina’s children were so young. I know that suffering is suffering and a child is not supposed to die before her mother, no matter how old, but coping with the loss of such young people is infinitely more challenging to me.

On the last night of the trip, I asked Anna to help me talk with Zalina, and we sat on the lime green plastic couches in the lobby of the hotel and I held up a magnifying lens to my heart so that Zalina could see inside and her brightness shone through the glass and burned a spot into my heart and I will never forget her. I could see the painful comparison in Zalina’s eyes when she looked at me, most painfully when I was laughing and she wistfully glanced sideways at me, looking up from a bite of food or peering over the car seat. That last night Zalina confirmed my suspicions—she told me that my smile reminded her of her older daughter, and that she believes that if her older daughter had the chance to grow up, she would be a lot like me. She gave me her daughter’s favorite candy and told me that when I come to Moscow she will show me a photo of her daughters at Christmas time. Since their death, Zalina does not celebrate Christmas or New Years the same way. She and Olga also do not sing because they are in mourning. I tell Zalina about my depression and suicidality, and how my saving grace was the image of how sad my mom would be if I took my own life, if I were no longer with her. I told Zalina that now I believe that it was not only for my mom that I saved myself, but also for her, and that I look forward to continuing to work for peace with her in the future.

One day I will go to Moscow, and maybe I will find the remains of my father’s family’s piano store and maybe before I go I will really make peace with my father because peace is inseparable from our internal lives, and then I will work to bring all these mothers together, and also the daughters of the struggle. I will meet the Mothers of Beslan and the Committee of Mothers of Soldiers. I will listen to Russian punk rock and wear a big jacket with fake fur. I will bring the message of peace and solidarity from the US.

And maybe someday Zalina and I will sing together.

Habiba

2005-12-04T09:51:00.000-08:00

Habiba is an expression and a sound and not containable in a written summary. Habiba is a woman overflowing with love and compassion and jokes and very very powerful healing. Habiba is at once both mystical and grandmother-esque. She is the ultimate babushka. Habiba is clear, she is a channel and a vessel of light and so there is not chit chatter and time is truly intentional. Habiba is a large woman who wears long velvet mumus that are embroidered with silver and gold string. She has two gold necklaces: Madonna and the Yin Yang symbol, emblematic of her understanding that the divine is one—Allah, Muhammad, Jesus, Adonai, Buddha, Avalokiteshvara, all one. Habiba has a magnetic bracelet that helps her mind and body be aligned. She has two big gold rings with large, shimmering stones, and she has hair that is black like an Arabian horse’s mane. She paints her face with thick black eyeliner and crimson lip liner and when she laughs I think the whole world is going to quiver with joy. Her light tickles even the most shaded areas. Every day Habiba carries a mala, or rosary, and she has a variety of different strings of beads. Many are evil eye protectors, and one, my favorite, has white beads with black Arabic lettering describing different Muslim prayers on each bead. I ask Habiba if women are ever whirling dervishes, because I love to spin and dream of learning the art of Sufi whirling. Habiba tells me that women only dance in this way when a child dies; they dance so that the spirit of the child can go up to the sky safely. Habiba says, “The important thing is not how to use the word or silence, but the way we use the word or silence.” I can feel Habiba and I communicating even in the silence. To do her healing work, Habiba whistles on people’s heads, uses cupping on the back, hypnotizes, and much more. Habiba usually sees up to 100 people a day at her home for healing. Habiba says that people come for the healing and leave her with a greater sense of faith and love for the divine. We see a documentary that Costanzo made about Habiba’s work.

Grandmother Sarah

2005-12-04T08:44:00.000-08:00

Grandmother Sarah opens the conference in Udine with a ceremony. Since her luggage has been lost in Paris, she is unable to set up her altar and sage us. She is deeply distraught, but also calls on each of to find the altar inside ourselves, which I find to be what is most needed for me in that moment.

In every one of Grandmother Sarah’s ceremonies/talks, she expresses a great amount of gratitude, nyaweh, which she often linked to thanks for the sun and also the sun that shines from within us. I find that the Italian culture is also very fond of expressing gratitude—a large amount of time at the beginning of each event is devoted to thanking everyone from the individuals behind the logistics to the state of Italy. Grandmother Sarah spoke about how we each must take the initiative to speak to our ancestors, to contact our grandparents. She described how life is embodied in the figure of the turtle—the tail is the beginning of conception, 0-7 are the formative years, and up and up to the head, the spiritual realm.

Maria Fedulova

2005-12-04T07:54:00.000-08:00

Russia is a country that has compulsory military service for young men, but has no Veteran’s Administration, the way we do in the US, so that vets get little, if any, assistance. Eleven years after the war in Chechnya began, in 1989, mothers of soldiers gathered in Moscow to discuss what to do about their children who would surely be sent to Afghanistan to fight. Maria Fedulova helped to start the Mothers of Soldiers organization to help veterans and to prevent young people from going to war. The organization effectively stopped 600 young people from going to Chechnya to fight. The government does not help soldiers find jobs, and many become addicts. In 1996, the Mothers of Soldiers began a campaign for a voluntary, rather than compulsory, military service. They have successfully gained legal support so that boys who go to study in the university don’t have to go into the military. Maria described how all wars start with men and finish with women; it is women that often do the clean up work and take care of the wounded. Maria said that her group tried to stay away from politics, but considering what they had been through, it became very difficult to stay away, so they engage in the political struggle to affect change. They have now helped start a political party to campaign against military recruitment. Mothers of Soldiers is funded by Soros in the US and often the organization is helped by journalists who look for sponsors for the young vets who need surgery and other resources.

Maria has lived in hell—she goes into Chechnya and negotiates with the combatants for the release of prisoners or dead bodies. While I never really got her full story, I did understand that in one situation, she was involved in the negotiation process for the trade of prisoners for dead bodies. Chechen culture requires that the dead be buried within one day of their death, a cultural law to which the Russian soldiers paid no heed. In this case, the Russians crushed the bodies with tanks, so the Chechen combatants murdered the hostage POWs. This is hell—where hate is matched by hate.

Maria is one of the strongest women I have ever encountered. Even with the language barrier, I understand that she is a force to be reckoned with; she is powerful beyond measure and I believe that she is both persuasive and stubborn. She is weathered by a thousand images of torture and risky situations—you can see in the lines on her face, in her darting eyes, in her shoulders. But you can also see that she has absolutely not given up, that she is hopeful beyond belief and wholly determined to change the military situation in Russia. On the last night at the fancy Christmas dinner I get to sit next to Maria. Maria gets Tinkerbell sparkles in her eyes when she watches me laugh and eat strange new candies and foreign vegetables. It is like she is awestruck by my youthfulness. I am grateful for the way that I have been able to add such a lively presence to this group, though it feels a little funny to constantly be like the bambino of all these materi.

I discuss the CODEPINK plans for international protests on International Women’s Day, March 8, 2006, to ask US Embassies to help stop the war in Iraq. We come up with the idea of having women in the US protest at the Russian embassy asking for answers and reparations for the Beslan terrorism and women in Russia protesting at the US embassy against the war in Iraq… both in solidarity with each other and for peace. We also talk about having a reality tour to Russia, and about meeting again to continue this work.

Liz Rivera-Goldstein

2005-12-04T06:56:00.001-08:00

Liz called me about two weeks before the Donne di Pace trip to invite me to come on the tour. I have known Liz for almost a year through the counter-recruitment movement. Throughout this time I have been inspired by her dedication to working for peace, and she and I have had meaningful conversations about our challenges in finding a balance between work and self-care. Granted I did reconnaissance work before coming on this tour, but I still consider my decision to go on the trip to be partially a leap of faith based on my trust in Liz. Every moment I spent with Liz in Italy confirmed in me the sense that she is one of the trustworthiest, strong, and inspiring people I have ever met.

In her talks, Liz speaks about the counter-recruitment movement in the US and why it is important that kids know the truth about the military. Liz tells her personal story about her childhood suffering, her journey as a midwife, which led her to realize that peace begins with birthing babies in a non-violent way—at home and not at the hospital, and her work with her children. Liz home-schooled both of her children, and as a school project for them, she helped them start a local group called Teen Peace in their hometown of Port Townsend, Washington. In this group, rather than give her own political opinion, Liz poses provocative questions to the kids and teaches them what it means to be a conscientious objector. Liz speaks about the rift between youth and Vietnam-era activists within the peace movement. Liz says that the future is in the hands of the youth who refuse to fight.

Liz often talks about the role of mothers in the making of global peace. She tells me, “Mothers are amazing; don’t get us mad!” Indeed, Liz is a remarkable woman, a phenomenal spirit, and I look forward to continuing to work with her.

Olga Takaeva

2005-12-04T06:56:00.000-08:00

Olga is a rosy, sweet woman who is a member of the Russian Duma and a representative to Italy. She said that you really get to know who your friends are in moments of pain. She is proper, professional and cheery and though I do not get know her well during the trip, I am grateful for her presence.

Natalia Gouzieva

2005-12-04T04:58:00.000-08:00

Natalia (called Natasha) is the Russian-Italian translator for the trip. I like her a lot because she puts up with my bad Italian, my stumbling through communication and charade hand gestures. She and I are eager to communicate with each other about everything from the weather to the Russian ballet to our houses and families. I tell her about how I want to go to Moscow to see where my father's family came from. She asks me questions about California. I am forever grateful to Natalia for all her help with translation--indeed if she had not been present I would not have been able to communicate with the other Russian women most of the time. Natalia has a big fur coat and when we were in Venice waiting for Costanzo to get the car Natalia saw me shivering and she wrapped me in her coat and held me close to her until it was time to leave. I cannot remember the last time someone was so attentive to my warmth and wellbeing in that way. Natalia's daughter is a model in Milano, so she is also very familiar with the geography of the area, which is especially helpful when Costanzo and the car's computer automated map system have a falling out... ;-)

Natalia Molebasti

2005-12-04T04:21:00.000-08:00

Natalia is a spoken word poet and activist from Johannesburg, South Africa. Natalia was only with the Donne di Pace tour during the 2-day conference at Udine, but in that brief amount of time, her strong character left a lasting impression on me. Natalia performed her poetry to John Coltrane and to a South African female singer’s work. When she performed “In the name of time,” the music was perfectly aligned, the chorus repeating the words “time, time, time,” as Natalia spoke them. During the second day of the Anam Cara conference, Natalia instigated a moment of silence for those suffering from AIDS, particularly in Africa, and Costanzo added also a moment of silence for the death of the children in the terrorist attack in Beslan, for an indigenous poet who recently passed on, and for the innocent civilians and the soldiers who have died in the war in Iraq.

“Even though I pray,” Natalia writes, “I’m going to keep on working.” I was apprehensive about the interfaith aspect of the Donne di Pace tour, and the potential religious under-tone of the whole tour, but these fears were assuaged by the excellent balance of ceremony and clear political agenda in this group of women. These women make politics personal and bring political discourse out of the White House and other lofty, distant, and unreachable places and back into the house and the neighborhood and the heart. Natalia’s line of poetry really addresses this—yes we pray, and also we keep on going with our work in this life. Natalia has another line that I really like: “I would like to hear the children say…that they are bright and colorful…and that above all they want freedom.” Her poems are online at http://web.uniud.it/all/simplegadi/index.html.

Gulia

2005-12-04T04:04:00.000-08:00

Gulia is Habiba's daughter-in-law and she is absolutely gorgeous and has a quiet power about her. Because she is the closest to my age on the tour, I feel that we share some unspoken bond. Then again, her children are almost teenagers and she spends most of her time looking after Habiba, so we do not share that much nor are we able to communicate that well with each other, given the language differences. She teaches me how to say "I love" in Uzbek: "Seva man..." and we doodle on the fogged up car windows as we wind our way up to Aosta.

Anna Saudin

2005-12-04T03:06:00.000-08:00

Anna is the first new face I meet when I step off the airplane and into Milan. Anna is Costanzo's husband and the co-organizer of the tour. She speaks Italian, Russian, and English, so she is the link between us all. The first thing Anna tells me is that she is grateful for the Donne di Pace convergence because it allows her time to work with women who embody peace, unlike some of the female shamans she has worked with in Siberia and beyond. Anna is bright and fiery--she reminds me of a forest fairy or a tree spirit, with her dark flowing hair and henna highlights and her small frame. Anna coordinates all the logistics and press for the tour and remains impeccably humble about all of her work, though we know she is a goddess and a wonder worker.

Costanzo Allione

2005-12-04T02:13:00.000-08:00

Costanzo is a dream worker, a visionary, a person who inspires laughter and greatness in the same breath. As an artist, with yellow circular glasses and a cartoony neck scarf, he is an exceptionally talented documentary filmmaker with an eye for color and a heart of gold. He has dedicated much of his life to the documenting of powerful female figures, mainly shamans and healers. I don't know exactly where Costanzo's love of life and passion for spreading women's voices comes from, but I know that it is going to continue to inspire all that bear witness to him and his work for a long time. Costanzo is a spiritual man, a fiery man, and a real CODEPINK man for peace. He marched with CODEPINK at the September 24th mobilization in Washington D.C. Costanzo and Anna have been organizing the Donne di Pace tour for the past five years, bringing women from the all over the world together to connect with each other and share their stories and work with Italians. Costanzo joked that maybe next year he will organize a Men of Peace tour--Costanzo is a lover of challenges. He is also my new Italian papa and trusted friend. He has all my respect and parting would have been more challenging had I not known that he frequents the US and that his spirit is everywhere.

Aosta Mountain Summit

2005-12-04T01:24:00.000-08:00

On Sunday we go to the Catholic church in the Aosta town center. Sitting in church and looking at the emaciated, bloody Jesus hanging around makes me think of all the times the cross was used to murder and persecute, to oppress and to inflict pain. I wonder about how it is possible to be so austere and rigid in spiritual observance inside such a beautifully grand building with high arches and so much stained glass. If I close my eyes, I can see drums and dancing and so much soulful joy and gratitude to the divine here; when I open my eyes, I see the pulpit, the empty wooden carved seats where royalty must have sat in days past, and I feel my spine against the flat wooden bench and I see all the little old ladies in their Sunday best dresses and big fur coats. There are no children here. But then the service commences and the priest gives a lot of airtime to Donne di Pace, and even comes over to shake each of our hands and give us a saint card and a peace dove necklace during the service. I remind myself that messengers of the divine take all forms.

In the afternoon we speak in Aosta in a large presentation room that is very high-tech and fancy. Each of us gets a name placard while we talk and the videos are shown on a big screen. The government officials who speak talk about how this has been the month celebrating women, so there have been a variety of events honoring women’s work for peace, and our speaking event is the last event in this series. The day before, a female lawyer from Malawi spoke about her struggle in the Congo. She was the woman of the year in 2001.

Milan Morning

2005-12-03T21:23:00.000-08:00

The snow covers not only the heap of trash in the side yard, but seems to dust the inside of my room—I wake up chilled and drowsy and stumble downstairs for a cappuccino and a chocolate croissant. I spend the morning emailing and doing work, attempting to debug our local coordinators listserve and writing letters.

At noon we lunch on bouillon and salad and Costanzo and I have a long conversation about genetically modified food, Jewish chicken soup, and healthy eating. Then Grandmother Sarah, Liz, and I talk about indigenous rights, and how white people from the USA should refer to themselves, and the problems with the misuse of land and the void of spirituality (not religion) from politics, and the multiple definitions of politics. I talk about what I see as the real meaning of “politics”: the communication and negotiation between individuals who comprise a community to meet the needs of each and the needs of the whole, with the recognition that these needs are not separate from the perceived “environment,” that as we are the earth, we are living symbiotically with each part of it.

By three we have reached the Milan Peace House, where we will give a 3-hour presentation. The Peace House was built by the city government to house offices, meeting space, and an art gallery for peace endeavors. It is a beautiful building that makes me think about our own Department of Peace movement in the US. Because of the snowy weather conditions, people are slow to arrive, and the group is smaller than expected. I am reminded of our March 8th Activist Training Camp in NYC, especially when Liz speaks about the importance of quality, not quantity. For some reason, after sitting in the overcrowded room in Udine for two days, the small group seems perfect. On each chair there is a postcard talking about Stan Tookie William’s case and on the back is a letter to Schwarzenegger asking for Stan to be pardoned. I am so impressed that Milan has taken on this campaign—I learn that Milan has been a center for the anti-death penalty movement in Italy, so it is natural for them to take interest in this case. I meet Luca, a spiritual progressive from the north. Grandmother Sarah opens the gathering with sage smudging and large eagle feathers. It is a very beautiful and touching experience.

Venice

2005-12-02T21:22:00.000-08:00

Today is a day off, so to speak, though the relaxation yields excellent dialogue between the Donne di Pace. We leave Udine and journey to Venizia, Venice. We take a boat through Venice and we visit St. Mark’s Square. I was last here when I was about four years old. I remember standing in the square and feeding the pigeons, who eagerly ate the food and perched on my shoulders. The photo of that day later turned into a Christmas card that my parents sent out. I make many photos of me in the square so I can compare the younger image and the current one when I return to the States. The birds flock around Habiba. I make a photograph of Zalina with a bird perched on her arm and it makes me think about how she is still able to fly, even with the broken wing of her suffering for her children. Zalina later tells me that she feels that even when she is smiling and laughing in this world, in this body, she feels that her spirit is with her daughters somewhere else, above. We drink rich coffee and visit the church. I find a pink gondola and a pink theatrical mask. We eat a delicious lunch of mussels and on the walk back through the Venetian alleyways, I drift between conversations between Costanzo and Liz about punk rock bands, and the incomprehensible chatter of the Russian women, and the hum of this aquatic city, and finally the lapping of the water and the sound of my breath crystallizing on an exhale.

We drive to Milan at night and arrive just in time for dinner at the hostel at the edge of the city. The hostel is brand new and everything is comfortably Ikea-d out. I give up aspirations of going to the discothèque when the snow begins to pour out from somewhere I cannot see through my small window. The snow sticks and covers the heap of discarded furniture and building materials in the yard next to the hotel so that it looks like a beautiful modern sculpture all in white marble has suddenly been erected where trash once lay.

Liz and I stay up very late talking about our experiences in the counter-recruitment movement, and we talk with a group of young men about their stay in Milan and eat pizza. Then we discover how to use the Ethernet connection and download hundreds of emails.

Anam Cara Conference at the University of Udine

2005-11-30T20:43:00.000-08:00

Our first event is a two-day conference at the University of Udine. The conference is titled Anam Cara, and is a blend of themes: poetry, art, and women of peace. This unique mixture of speakers and subjects is unified by the conference’s title: Anam Cara is a Celtic term for a friendship of the soul, pure love that can supercede differences, which is the aim of shamanism. I first heard the term when practicing meditation in women’s circles in my hometown and reading the work of John O’Donahue. I read O’Donahue’s poems at my grandmother (my stepdad’s mom’s) memorial service the week before I came on this trip, so of course everything is in synchronicity.

The room is packed, mostly with women, and there are two rows of students standing in the back; the fire marshal warns that no more will be allowed in. Over 100 people are crammed into the lecture hall in Udine to take part in a two-day conference entitled Anam Cara, an exploration into poetry, the work of the soul, and women’s work for peace around the world. Over two days for sixteen hours, high school and college students listen to speakers and watch films detailing stories ranging from a Sufi healer from Uzbekistan, to a young poet from South Africa who performs her spoken word over John Coltrane’s sax, to a mother who lost her two children in the terrorist attack in Beslan, Chechnya, one year ago, to two American women describing the peace movement and apologizing for the immense failures of our country’s administration, for our inexcusable foreign affairs failures, and the failures of our domestic policy (now global evident in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina).

The two-day conference is an incredible experience—particularly the emphasis on the centrality of art to activism by the weaving of poetry and film throughout the presentations. We stay in the student dorms and eat in the school cafeteria. Every morning we have crusty rolls, cheese, jam, and bowls of coffee. One night I go out with Marco who takes me to the independent movie theater and art gallery, which has a bar with pink lighting!

Traveling to Italy

2005-11-28T20:39:00.001-08:00

I boarded the United plane in San Francisco at noon on Monday and touched down in Milan at 1 p.m. Tuesday, with a lay over in London on the way. The airplane travel was rather uneventful with the exception of the following: while I was in line to get my boarding pass in SF, a woman called me on my cell phone and I subletted my room to her (ahh, craigslist); once on the United jet, which was totally booked, I realized that my laptop was completely out of power, so I approached a passenger in the first class to ask to plug it in, which he would have been happy to do, but it turns out you need a power converter, which costs $100 and I of course did not have. However, the man sitting next to this generous man did have the plug. I asked if I could borrow it to charge the laptop, and even offered to pay him, describing my desperation to read articles and type, but he refused, saying he had paid good money for it and would not share it. He wore a Texas-sized cowboy hat and when he spoke he had this condescending tone. Most people in the first class, like usual, were men in suits. I tried to weed out what were my own stereotypes, of the rich and of men, but in the end I came to the conclusion that I didn’t like the way the men in the first class treated me. I get that in this capitalist world if you work hard you can (sometimes) make lots of money and afford to fly first class, but I don’t get why people in the first class are so reluctant to share with people in need. Whenever I have been gifted by the opportunity to sit in first class (free upgrades due to airline problems, etc.), I have smuggled goodies to friends and strangers in the coach stowage area and offered any services I could. There is something about the red carpet mentality, however minor in the grand scheme of things, which I absolutely abhor. Other things that happened in transit:

I ate a hummus sandwich at the London Heathrow airport that was made with all organic vegetables and I had a soy latte—where else would you find such food in an airport?!
I listened to earsful of new iPod music—from punk to manfolk to world beats.

When we touched down in Milan the ground was covered with a fine dust of snow and big fat flakes were zooming by over the airplane wings. In the blur of the landing and as I cleared my eyes of sleep and tried to focus, the flakes of snow looked like tiny white feathers streaming off the metallic white bird’s wings. Molting. Shedding old pasts and stepping into new skin.

In the airport customs is like a drive through—I hardly realize that I have entered into a new country—just a quick “ciao” from the border patrol. For a brief second my mind flashes to the scene at Ciudad Juarez last summer, and the strict and demeaning nature of the US Border Patrol. Nothing like that here. I meet Liz, the American activist who invited me to come on the tour. Liz has short dark hair that shows hints of being dyed red and a nose like mine and a peaceful presence that is full of determination. She lives in Washington state and is a great leader in the counter-recruitment movement. Liz and I walk over to where the rest of the women are sitting. I am the last to arrive (except for one woman’s bag, which has been lost in transit in Paris). The women from Russia, Chechnya, and Uzbekistan don’t speak English and so our conversation is slow.
I have a real café and we wait at the airport for what seems like hours and hours for the Canadian woman’s bag which never comes and in the end we leave for a five-hour drive to Udine, where we will speak at the university tomorrow. What strikes me first about the women I am traveling with is their diverse expressions and stories.

Mid-July through October Brief Overview

2005-08-12T11:15:00.000-07:00

From Mid-July to October, the following exciting things happened:
CODEPINK staff retreat in Los Angeles
Art in Action summer camp in Santa Cruz
MEPS visit in Sacramento
Counter-recruitment action at the KMEL Summer Jam show
Housesitting for Dasja and calling Palo Alto home for a few weeks
Travels to Tucson
My first burn at Burning Man, camping with Unafried, goddesses united, love magic
Trip to Washington, D.C. for September 24-26 peace demonstration, self-defense pink camo action against Cheney and Halliburton, and arrest outside the White House

During this time, due to the busy-ness of life and deep internal processing and immune system issues, I didn't blog much. But you can find more info about the CODEPINK actions and events online at www.codepinkalert.org.

White Sands, Dark Night

2005-07-12T22:39:00.000-07:00

We finish driving through Texas and enter into New Mexico in the afternoon. Tzadik drives up a smaller highway towards White Sands. There, we run around the cream-colored dunes, dancing in the falling sunlight and rolling down the hills, making photographs and spinning in circles. We stirr up so much emotion that the sky seems to twist into a knot and burst, drizzling soft rain onto our bodies and the dunes. Raindrops on dunes are a phenomena. One of the things that should have been included at the beginning of that movie Amelie, alongside the sensation of fingers running through a barrel of dry beans, or the crack of a spoon on the top of a dish of creme brulee.

We run around and move through so many different emotions and then make figure eights and donuts in the big parking lot before leaving the national monument that is White Sands. Then we have the crazy idea to go to Mexico for one last hurrah before heading home to Tucson. We return south and go back to El Paso and before we can even finalize the decision or figure out where to park, we are driving on a bridge over the Rio Grande and staring up at a big green sign that says, "Bienvenidos a Mexico." In Ciudad Juarez, we go to a big grocery store and wander around the aisles, getting brightly colored, super sweet smiley face cupcakes, Mexican hot chocolate bars, small avocados, and birthday cards in Spanish. We drive to the city center and walk around the plaza in front of the large cathedral. The place is littered with drunken folks and homeless folks and we smoke cigars and feel entirely transported to another world, a world all to familiar to me in some respects. We stop for tacos at one of the only restaurants still open. It feels like there is a part of my lungs that gets air for the first time in a long time--that is what it is to be in Mexico, outside of the United States--it is like a taste of freedom that makes the deception of our government all the more real, even within all of the poverty and darkness that a night in Juarez contains.

At the border, the patrol officer questions us like we will never get back in. First, the guy doesn't believe that "Tzadik" is really Tzadik's name. Then he doesn't believe that we're driving my best friend's car from Georgia to CA--a lie would have been more believable. Finally we call him out on his myriad of isms and he taps the wheels and lets us go. We reenter the land of skyscrapers with brightly lit US flags and street sweepers and SUVs. At the next rest area we switch drivers and I drive until I pull over to sleep at a gas station.

Austin: Crossing Over

2005-07-11T22:35:00.000-07:00

We wake up on sandy terrain and head to Austin, the place where two years ago I was in a car crash. We not only reclaim the city, but have a lot of fun doing it: We meet up with Sean at the FSSCA for lunch and then go to a big swimming hole for an icy dip in the hot Texas afternoon with Tzadik's friend Meredith. Meredith is a goddess of a woman--all wisdom and laughter and a good story teller with a big heart and a disposition for catching babies. We leave Austin and journey westward, sleeping at a rest stop somewhere in West Texas. I am consumed by bugbite itching; the door to the tent rips off and Tzadik says we are like Abraham and Sarah. I say sure, except for all the passing semi-trucks and the dull humming of sleeping teemsters in their airconditioned cabs. I realize that I have made it through Austin, barely skinning the edge of a car at an intersection, but safely out of the city by dusk. A turning point.

Bayou and Gulf: Search and Find

2005-07-10T02:17:00.000-07:00

After a long night in New Orleans, complete with a five-star meal of bbq shrimp (with bibs! the photos are hilarious!), jambalaya, blueberry margaritas, and more; live jazz; intense conversation; long walks by the bay; an interesting political conversation with a man who coordinates a lot of peace events in New Orleans, and who is also the bouncer at the Pirate, and who is well into his 60s; and an endless drive through the Bayou to find a place to sleep... we awake in the middle of a wheat field. The ground is soft, muddy almost, and we have slept soundly in the tent all night, only to wake up hot and sticky from the humidity and rising sunshine. I marvel at how it is possible to follow a farm road in far enough so that you are almost lost, and then stop and pitch a tent right there on the side of the road in the middle of the field. I wake groggily, change clothes, and we are off. We traverse the road several times, searching for the historic plantations that seem never to really exist.

We visit the Oakwood Plantation and we walk around with the heaviness of the place, which seems unrecognized by the generally white tourists who peruse the grounds oohing and ahhing and making photographs. To me, this is not a glistening spectacle, but is rather an apparition, a malady in the beautiful swamp landscape that juts out of the ground with all the arrogance of the antebellum era. Imagining that there were slaves here once, reading the list with their names and worth in dollars, and looking at the place where their houses used to stand (of course they were built for impermanence and left to rot), all made me sick to my stomach. I found solace in the thick old oak trees lining the path: their mossy roots, strong trunks, and drooping, full branches. I took off my shoes and allowed myself to touch the soil despite all the warnings about bugs and worms. Grounding on the grounds of servitude and domination. I am in Tzadik's arms crying about personal connections and about this place. Then we are jumping over a small ravine, through flocks of dragonflies, illusions, and into a new world, or at least a new dimension.

Then we search for real Bayou cooking in a local restaurant, which is equally as difficult--lots of hole in the wall greasy chicken places and fast food chains, and even a brand new Walmart, but no roadside stands to get fresh cooked seafood or real Cajun cuisine on the cheap. We even try visiting a biker bar, which reveals a big confederate flag and is totally dark and creepy inside. We end up at a roadside cafe where we get our boiled shrimp and gumbo after all, but not until several hours later.

That night we intend to get to Austin, but when I pull over for gas in eastern Texas I realize that I am too tired to keep going. Out of nowhere, I see a small brown sign pointing to the left that reads, "Beach 20 miles," and so we decide to go to the beach. We drive down a small road and emerge out on the peninsula of the Gulf of Mexico. We park at an RV lot and walk out onto the beach, where we see bright, looming lights casting nets of florescent rays onto the muddy green water. Upon closer inspection, we find at least a dozen surfers surfing in the middle of the night! It turns out that Hurricane Dennis has generated these larger than normal waves, the surfers have flocked to the scene, and someone is filming them surfing. I find this fascinating and we watch and run around the beach, all the while innocent of the hordes of sand bugs that are attacking and biting us.

We camp by the road further down and spend a beautiful night under the stars, almost bug free, entirely in love. At night the sky is full of lightning and thunder. In the morning, a double rainbow.

New Orleans Daylight

2005-07-09T17:40:00.000-07:00

We awake and plunge into the pool, floating around for a while, soaking in the scene of bohemian foreign backpackers swimming through America’s big cities by train and spending languid weeks in this bustling city, drinking and dancing in the streets by night and watching MTV from sagging couches in dimly lit rooms, snacking on bulk cereals and saturating themselves with pop music in the day. Languages are traded and western culture is commodified in that particular way that is replicated by backpackers all over the world, and I feel as if I could be anywhere—Guatemala, Bali, France, or perhaps the set from the movie, The Beach. We leave this little world in midday and journey into the French Quarter where we find a café that has a courtyard filled with fountains, greenery, good sandwiches, iced coffee, and wire tables to work on. I discover plugs for the electric lanterns hidden in the garden, hook up my laptop, and I’m in business. Night falls and we prepare to saturate our souls with live jazz and more adventure. When I travel with Tzadik, everything—from grocery shopping to exploring a new city to driving to writing to singing to simply breathing—is an adventure. This way of living is tantalizing and rejuvenating, and after spending the entire afternoon working on CODEPINK work at this café and catching up on blogging, I feel refreshed and ready for the night.

Alabama Alternatives

2005-07-08T17:39:00.000-07:00

Tzadik and I go to the only NSA (Network Spinal Association) practitioner in Alabama for entrainments. It is wonderful to access the healing community in the South, to counter the popular myth of “Red States” being devoid of such resources. Then I have a CODEPINK conference call which I am on from my cell phone in the car. Tzadik and I visit the Civil Rights museum and the 16th Avenue Baptist Church where the four young girls were killed during the bombing. This is a very emotional experience for both of us, as we recount our country’s recent history and look at the similar paradigms being repeated today in intolerances towards gay rights, anti-war activism, and the “war on terror” fear-based politics dominating the media and (less and less) popular American worldview. It is also disheartening to see how though everyone now has a right to vote, the majority of people, regardless of race, feel (and I think that this is the reality) that their votes are not being counted.

We stop at the library on the way out of town to check email and we drive through the Southern forests to Louisiana. Tzadik gets many more magnetic ribbons in Alabama, Mississippi (at Wal-Mart and at a Winn Dixie strip mall) and we reach New Orleans in the late evening. We go to several bed and breakfasts but everything is booked because of the hurricane warnings; folks are fleeing Florida and coming to Mardi Gras central. The brief news I hear on the radio and see on commercial TV sensationalizes the whole thing, like everything else, highlighting “flashbacks” from the devastating hurricane of 1999, instilling paranoia and fear into the masses, as usual. Tzadik and I discover the India House youth hostel by asking a tarot card reader in the park about where to stay and we go there and spend the night for a minimal fee in our own room with honest-to-goodness bunk beds. It is hot and we fall asleep almost instantly upon arrival, having syrupy dreams and waking sweaty and thick.

Peachy Politics

2005-07-07T17:39:00.000-07:00

We drop Dena and Gary off to fly to Costa Rica for their honeymoon and we depart for our road trip. We spend the day in Atlanta, Georgia, where Tzadik begins his Real Troop Support project, collecting “Support Our Troops” ribbons in every state we visit and making plans for an art project about what real support for the troops looks like. We eat a hearty, organic breakfast at the Flying Biscuit, visit Little 5 Points—the Atlanta equivalent (attempt) at Haight-Ashbury, where we visit the independent feminist bookstore and the thrift store. We spend time at a city park that has some interesting art pieces, including an installation of roadwork neon orange colored hammocks that we nap in for an hour or so. We go to Donna Van Gough’s art store, a shop that Sam and I visited on our trip through the South before the election 2004, where we interviewed the owner, asking her “What is Christian about Bush?” This time I revisited the politics of Atlanta, and found that the progressive community is still working hard, vibrant, however small. What used to be a square of sidewalk spray painted with a sunshine with the words “Vote” in the middle is now red, white, and blue and reads, “Liberty and Justice for All.” We go to the library and I work on the internet for a little over an hour. We shop at Sevananda community-owned natural food grocery store and get a Rocket Pocket veggie sloppy joe that is absolutely delicious, as well as has a cool name.

We drive on the big freeway and on several little roads, visiting Cuba and stopping to play on the swing set there and watch a long train go by, and by nightfall we are in Birmingham, Alabama, where we stay with Reverend Jack Zylman and his wife, Mike. They live in a historical landmarked house build in the early 1900s, a house which is filled with colorful, funky artwork from all over the world, but mostly from Cuba, Central America, and the South. They have many nativity scenes, including my favorite which is a sculpture depicting the birth of Christ in the back of a pickup truck. Jack is an older activist with a fountain of stories that pour over the dinner table, spill out into the sitting room, wash through the kitchen, and swim upstream into the bedrooms and office upstairs. He tells us about his role in the civil rights struggle in the South, his work with students in the Unitarian community in Massachusetts, his anti-war work during the Vietnam War, and stories of the scandalous, racist politics characterizing the former mayor of Birmingham and FBI interventions in Alabama. His wife, Mike, relates her experiences working with the women’s studies program at UAB (University of Alabama at Birmingham), and she tells me that women’s studies and African-American studies aren’t even departments at the under-funded, struggling university. Mike has a quiet, yet very powerful demeanor and her satirical humor and bright whit course through our conversations.

I find myself extremely inspired by Jack, even through all of his painful and challenging stories about organizing. One thing that Jack says which sticks with me is when he is talking about organizing for civil rights and says that it is not courage, but rather faith that motivated him to do the work that he did. He talked about how many ministers and preachers and other members of the clergy spoke with him years after the civil rights movement began and told him that they wish they could have been involved in the way that he was, but they had families to take care of, church communities to look after, and survival needs, and thus couldn’t participate the way that he did. Jack said to these people that for him it was not a decision, that it was more important to him to die with meaning, for a cause, than to live a life without meaning; that he would rather live a meaningful life than die without having followed his heart. And this meant that he had to put his body on the line numerous times.

In addition to all this, Jack is a music aficionado and he and Mike are part of a neighborhood cooking cooperative, and they both have some pretty cool cats. I leave them with a CODEPINK book and a promise to organize a book event soon and with hugs goodbye we are off in the morning.

On the road again..er, in the air!

2005-07-06T17:38:00.000-07:00

After an all too brief stop at Rebecca’s to drop off the car, we return to Shira’s place and sleep for a few hours before waking to go to the airport. Shira drives us to LAX way way way before sunrise and we are very very thankful to her for dropping us off. Tzadik and I embark for our first day of flying (in an airplane) together. We barely make it onto our first flight, which is a lengthy trip from LA to Washington, D.C. over a huge blanket of clouds that must be covering the bulk of the United States, though it is hard to imagine that all that land is hiding down there under all that white. We see glimpses of sunrise and a few mountain peaks that look like floating islands. We manage to sleep side by side on a row of three chairs and it is the best sleep I can remember having on a plane since I was little sleeping nestled between my parents’ shoulders on flights to London. We nap and chat and sneak peaks out the window and snuggle some more.

In Washington, D.C. we make portraits of each other in front of a large row of rainbow illuminated glass—I pose in front of the hot pink and Tzadik stands in front of the orange in a No Enemy shirt. We take a shuttle (the inside of which is more like a jungle gym) to the G terminal and we read and talk about yoga and I make a zillion work calls and then we are boarding our plane and Tzadik almost misses it because he has gone hunting for food in another terminal but we make it onto the plane, which has only 13 rows of 4 seats each and we are at the very back next to the lavatory. We have a very enjoyable plane ride that includes making magazine collages, calculating how high we are in the sky (over one mile high, very cold temperature), and chatting.

Dena and Gary pick us up at the airport and we go out to eat at a Thai restaurant where we toast the newlyweds and I sing my adapted cheer/chant for their marriage. We spend the night at Dena’s relatives’ house. Tzadik and I run outside and go dancing in the thunderstorm, returning home drenched in water and laughter. I work into the wee hours of the morning on the internet and I sleep very well.

Los Angeles Codepink Style

2005-07-06T17:37:00.000-07:00

Tzadik and I wake up way way way before sunrise (if we ever went to sleep at all) and depart for Los Angeles. The scene of the two of us driving to LA on the Five is a joke: we are so tired that we switch drivers at almost every gas station we pass and Tzadik eats a whole loaf of Mana Bread to stay awake (at least that’s the excuse he gives me when I wake up for my driving shift hungry). I have to be on a conference call during our drive over the Grapevine, during which my phone keeps cutting out. In LA, Tzadik drops me off at the Los Angeles Convention Center for the National Educator’s Association convention and I meet Dana, Tiffany, and Medea as they’re leaving for Medea’s lunchtime talk with the Peace and Justice Caucus. I spend the afternoon tabling for CODEPINK wearing a pink cap and gown and passing out pink mock diplomas that read “Diploma or Death Certificate?” and have tips for how to incorporate counter-recruitment into high school curricula and how to give students the resources they need to make an informed decision about enlisting in the military. People are very receptive and interested in finding out about CODEPINK. A few days later, we find out that the NEA has passed two resolutions about the militarization of schools and the protection of student privacy.

In the afternoon, I have a one hour interview with a radio station in Columbia, Missouri. I speak about CODEPINK’s 4th of July actions, the recent news that the National Guard has created a surveillance unit to spy on anti-war activity and our response, the changing tide of opinion around the war, and countering military recruitment. Several callers express their support of CODEPINK. We talk a lot about the issues around a US pull out of Iraq and the fears people have about ensuing conflict in the region. I do the entire interview on my cell phone in the huge car garage of the Convention Center.

In the evening, Jodie hosts a book party at her home in Venice. The room is overflowing with people eager to hear about how to stop the next war now. Jodie, Medea, Fernando, Nadia, and others speak. It is both difficult and inspiring to bear witness to Fernando and Nadia’s accounts of the death of their children as soldiers in Iraq. By the end of the night, Tom Hayden has modeled the pink rocker wig, and Gracie is doing a mock book signing. I leave Jodie’s house feeling very, very grateful to work with such an inspiring bunch of women.

Interdependence Day 2005

2005-07-04T17:33:00.000-07:00

On the 4th of July, hundreds of women and men all over the country reclaimed the day by taking a stand against the imperialism and torture that now characterize America. CODEPINK called for parties and demonstrations in parades that made colorful statements against the abuse of prisoners in Guantanamo Bay, the war in Iraq, and the proliferation of not only nuclear weapons, but an attitude of superiority and domination. In Alameda, CODEPINKers organized a procession within the big 4th of July parade, and in Huntington Beach, near Los Angeles, CODEPINK crashed the parade. In Half Moon Bay, my family and I threw an “Independence from the Empire Day Bash” and invited everyone we knew. About 40 people showed up to demand a Stop (to) Wars, Star Wars style. We celebrated Interdependence Day, roasted veggie kabobs, defeated the Darth Vader piñata and watched candy necklaces, chocolate kisses, and toy airplanes fall onto the concrete—yes, sweetness is inside of darkness. We ate a vegan chocolate cake that said, “Happy Independance Day”—we attributed the spelling error to the wonder of words, weaving dances together, celebrating diversity. There were three waves of guests at our BBQ: Mike’s work friends and our family friends, friends from high school, and Dena and Gary and their wedding party friends. As night fell, we drifted down to the bluffs over the beach to watch the firework explosion. Fireworks always strike me as a strange expression of freedom; I think of Ani’s lyrics: “…and the birds flew around like the whole world was ending, cause they didn’t know that we were only pretending.” We mock war by detonating the sky with colors so we can ooh and ahh and stand around squeezing our lovers and our squealing kids and then we return to our houses so we can shoot some of our own mini rockets and feel free because of the little sparks and the dancing flames. However totally screwed up this tradition is, the pyrotechnic inside me never fails to rear its head and send waves of excitement and intrigue through my body. This year 4th of July was a continuation of my family’s party tradition, which is older than I am, with the added flare of meaningfulness, and this sentiment promises to light up the sky for a lot longer than those bursting orbs of cannon fodder.

Mother's Day in Sacramento

2005-05-08T21:50:00.000-07:00

Sunday, May 8th is Mother's Day and my mom and I go to Sacramento to participate in the action that Sam has coordinated with Natalie and others to mourn the loss of troops and innocent civilians and to call for an end to the war and to bring home the National Guard. The sky pours rain as we moan and wail and declare our solidarity in peace. The action draws over 50 people and is a beautiful demonstration of courage and conviction against war. I meet a midwife and grandmother who speaks very eloquently for peace. Bobbie sings Raging Grannies anti-war tunes. I am very grateful to my mom for spending this day with me. We share a meal together after the event at the local grocery co-op. Some punk eggs Sam's truck.

Months later, we find out that the National Guard has developed a surveillance unit and they "launched" their peace group activity spying by sneaking info about this event. We get national press attention and generate a lot of noise around the absurdity of this latest infringement of citizens' rights.

May: Stop the Next War Now Book Tour

2005-05-01T21:25:00.000-07:00

May 1st CODEPINK begins a 100 city book tour to connect with people all over the country (and several other countries as well!) and to promote the release of the new book, Stop the Next War Now, a collection of work from over 70 authors, activists, artists, politicians, poets, and conscientious objectors that highlights the ability of individuals and communities to rise up against war and to create peace. The kick off is a great action in Washington, DC. The book tour comes home to California with the following events, which I help organize (check out the links to see photos!):

Camilo Mejia speaking event http://www.codepinkalert.org/article.php?id=298
At this event, Camilo's daughter signs my copy of the book! Camilo also speaks at the Global Exchange Human Rights Awards dinner (I table for CODEPINK at this event and meet may exciting and interesting folks, and old friends).

Sausalito Ruth Group event: This book event is on a docked boat in the Bay. We have pink cupcakes, which become a signature addition for all the future Bay Area book events, and we premier the excellent Stop the Next War Now banner that Nancy made. At this event, a woman from the audience brings up her fears about an immediate exit strategy to bring the troops home, and we realize that people really need stronger voices for immediate withdrawal and more confidence in standing up against all the propaganda and messaging in the media which instills fear and makes people think that something positive is happening through the US occupation of Iraq.

Whole Earth Festival book event at UC Davis. Julia comes to the festival, Medea gives a great talk to a crowd scattered over the lawn, and I promote the book and counter-recruitment work while balancing the beehive wig on my head. Afterwards we zoom off to Stockton for the Peace and Justice Banquet at a steakhouse. A whirlwind, savory day of action!

San Francisco book event at Booksmith on the Haight and Berkeley book event at Cody's in Berkeley http://www.codepinkalert.org/article.php?id=297

Dena, Julia, and my domestic violence prevention high school project is honored at the Shalom Bayit event, which I go to with my mom and Ariel, who visits for the weekend of May 14-15. We eat a lot of really delicious chocolate and savor the presence of so many women dedicated to stopping violence in the home.

May 16th Nobel Peace Prize recipient Shirin Ebadi speaks at USF and we table and sell the book, which includes an essay she wrote.

To read more about the book tour, visit http://www.codepinkalert.org/article.php?list=type&type=45.

Beautiful Tragedy: Tent University and Town Hall with Anna Eshoo

2005-04-18T23:06:00.000-07:00

Today I participated in two very different events:

First, I spent the afternoon in Santa Cruz at Tent University. Tent U is a project inspired by Tent State (www.tentstate.com) at Rutgers in New Jersey, and the idea is to hold a week-long convergence of students who run their own direct democracy and set-up a working community outdoors on their college campus. The Tent State initiative brings awareness to education budget cuts, and the link with increased spending on the war in Iraq, connecting global-local politics with the demand, "Money for Books, Not Bombs!" Tent U. at UC Santa Cruz was conceived by Will, this rockin' activist from Oakland, after he and I met the Tent State kidz at the UfPJ conference in St. Louis. It is incredible how Tent U. sprang up over a period of less than two months, and I was astounded by how much time and effort went into the planning process, which seems, from the outside, to be very organic. Tent U. began with a rally on campus and a march down the hill to the free speech zone. Students carried big paper mache puppets and signs, and walked en mass all the way down to the meadow. The whole thing was a beautiful site... when I wasn't bemoaning the thought that I gave up four potential years of schooling nestled in the redwoods and valleys overlooking the ocean ;-)

The administration is opposing the students' plans to camp in the free speech area, and threatened to make arrests if students slept there overnight. Because of this heightened tension (the Tent U. organizing team has had very little sleep, and...) the community spent the afternoon discussing strategies in small groups and taking their input to a large fishbowl dialogue. By the time I had to leave, at around 5 p.m., they had still not decided what they were going to do: occupy the space for the duration of the night, or move their nighttime activities to another area. Had I stayed, I would have been concerned about the lack of bathrooms for the 70 or so people who were there... and a group of students actually showed up to protest the bathroom/sanitation situation, mocking a proposal for composting toilets. Such is student life at Santa Cruz: for every protest, there is a counter-protest!

In the evening, I went to a Town Hall meeting with Congresswoman Anna Eshoo in Half Moon Bay. It seems that I have grown up with Anna in politics, as she has held office in our district since 1992. I have received letters from her office commending scholastic achievements, echoing her support of environmental measures to save the old growth trees in California, and updating me on her work with energy policy. I will never forget her speech during the California energy crisis, in which she shared with us her experience with the other politicians, who were each fighting with each other to be the "savior" of the crisis, to heroically produce the IT plan that would bring California out of its mess with private energy companies. This added to my formative understanding of the absurdity of martyrdom, and the crucial importance of teamwork and collaboration.

Anna took questions from the community written on notecards and answered a great deal of them. She spoke at length about social security and the dangers of privatization, the need to end our oil dependency and produce more fuel efficient autos using our tech savvy edge, and the disastrous effects of the Patriot Act, Leave No Child Behind, the carte blanc end of the Estate Tax, and the absence of a Congressional Ethics Committee (which was the only balance Republican-Democrat committee in the House, and now no longer exists, thanks to Mr. Delay). Anna told me she supported our campaign to bring the California National Guard home from Iraq. She was her usual humorous and optimistic self, and it was warming to see her speak so candidly and honestly, admitting when she didn't know the answer to a question, and joking here and there.

What was disheartening about the Town Hall was that the community assembled, which filled the IDES hall, was composed predominately white older folks. With the exception of Anna's aides, I felt like the only twentysomething in the room! And there was no Hispanic contingency to speak of! This demographic, in a town which is home to so many Mexican laborers and their families, and holds a burgeoning youth population, as the middle and high schools are hard pressed for space, is appalling. Anna seemed excited about the idea of holding a Town Hall at the high school, and this made me hopeful at least.

So there you have it: from youth uprising and university take-over, to political meeting with retired Caucasians. What can I say? Working with CodePink makes for an incredibly interesting life!

April in California

2005-04-05T21:07:00.000-07:00

Spring showers of activism in the Bay include:
--Working from the Global Exchange CODEPINK office on everything under the sun-rushing to coordinate and plan and email and talk on conference calls, a dive into the activist world with little preparation that I will later look back on as experiential learning to the nth degree-a wonderful and intense time.

--Actions against the Minutement, the vigilante group that raises trouble and fear on the border by declaring personal war on undocumented Mexican immigrants

--Tent University (read the post!)

--A Holistic Passover Seder at my parents' house with over 15 people, using a Haggadah focusing on peace and social justice that my mom and I co-edit together. A second night Seder at Anna's college with the Greenbergs and late night musings in Palo Alto.

During April, Marla Ruzicka dies in a car bomb explosion in Iraq. Though I never knew Marla personally, by the end of two weeks of memorials and altars and stories and testimonials, I feel as if I had known her somehow, or at least that I am in touch with her spirit. Eva visits after attending the funeral. Something about Marla's death brings home the real-ness of the war and the dangers of the innocents who get mixed up in the middle. And in Marla's death the innocent victims she dedicated her life to get some attention, but their deaths are not marked by the same attention, because they are Iraqi. I think she would have despised that aspect of the media coverage. Her nonpartisan pro-peace work raised a lot of questions in me about my own work and it seems that as time passes this continues to be an evolving spiritual dialogue. To read more about Marla's work and the continuing work of the organization she founded, CIVIC, visit www.civicworldwide.org.

Salinas Library Read-In

2005-04-02T02:06:00.000-08:00

I spend a full week in Salinas working with the Salinas Action League (SAL), UFW, LUPE, and other community organizations and activists to make sure that everything is ready for the Library Read-In at Cesar Chavez library. My favorite memories are of staying with Robin and Peter, doing a banner drop over Highway 101 with Adele at the crack of dawn, navigating around town and learning my way through the streets, flyering at the library before it opened and seeing the huge line of eager library patrons--realizing the great importance of this work, coordinating the CODEPINK booth area, making giant black and white printed poster signs that had slogans such as, "Libros no bombas!" "Books, not bombs!" "Libraries, not jails!"

The background is that the Salinas city libraries--3 total--are threatened with closure because of insufficient funds. We formed a coalition to organize around the issue and to pressure the CA government for more funding, linking the closing of the libraries with the cost of the war in Iraq.

The event was a huge success in grassroots organizing, in raising awareness at a national and local level, and in spreading a message of hope. However, the link to the local cost of war could have been stronger and the actual result--good fundraising enabling the libraries to be open a little longer and a field trip with a bus load of kids to the capital to present petitions and loby to elected officials--didn't yeild significant political or financial results. This will continue to be a big issue.

I will never forget the women who brought giant pots of champurado and chamomille tea in the middle of the night, the singing, the hoolahooping, the readings in the wee hours of the morning, the camping, the set-up process, the incredible muralist I met from Sunset Street, the man with a gree moustache making french toast in the morning, my parents' attendance, and so much more. To read more about this action, visit http://www.codepinkalert.org/article.php?id=188.

Tucson Bush Unwelcoming, Goddess Style

2005-03-21T01:58:00.000-08:00

In Tucson, I spend time visiting Tzadik and I work with CODEPINK Tucson to plan a just unwelcoming of Bush. Instead of protesting with signs and anti-Bush negative messages, we meet with a local female artists who makes goddess masks. She gives us each a mask--I am the Green Tara--and we form a processional with a huge pink satin banner that Nancy has made, which reads, "The Great Mother Says No!" We carry the banner through the streets, over footbridges over the downtown streets, and through busy crowds. When we arrive at the Tucson Convention Center, we begin to encircle the building, chanting Goddess incantations and songs about liberation and social justice. We reach the police baracade where attendees are lining up, but after we explain that we are doing a ritual act, and not just protesting, we are allowed to enter the enclosed area and bring our chant and message closer to the people going inside. Our processional converges with the large rally and we drop a pink slip "Bring the troops home now" banner over a huge brick wall. My spirit is nourished and fortified by this action, in a way that it has not been in times past. I am exceedingly grateful to Nancy and the other women for making action happen.

Over the weekend, we celebrate Tzadik's Ambush Makeover premier with a party at a local hotel with lots of his friends and family. We play Z-Jeopardy with lots of fun questions that Kristin, Anna, and I write and we stay up late talking. I am struggling through a cold, and by the morning light, I feel much clearer. Tzadik and I celebrate Easter with an easter egg and chocolate hunt and then I am off to return to California.

I drive all day and part way through the night to get to Salinas in time to help organize the Salinas Library Read-In.

March 19: Anniversary of the Invasion of Iraq

2005-03-19T00:27:00.000-08:00

After a brief day at home with my family, I drive south to LA where I help the LA crew prepare for the Peace Walk and Rally in San Diego to commemorate the anniversary of the US invasion of Iraq. I help peel tape letters off a giant pink slip, make wooden crosses, create fliers, and more. We drop a huge pink slip banner off the Century Plaza hotel where the Gubernator is speaking that reads, "U won't be back for selling out California!" Dana and I journey to San Diego where we stay with Lynn who has the most wonderful and caring spirit and a deliciously colorful house. We begin the memorial events with a mini Arlington West--a commemoration to the soldiers lost specifically from the San Diego area--hundreds of hot pink crosses lining the beach and a banner drop over the pier. Several active duty military personell stop and talk with us. Many families stop by. The visual is beautiful and chilling and all too real.

We depart from there and start our peace walk. Dana and I scramble to put up the mile markers in time while making sure that everyone has water and Cliff Bars. The three days of the peace walk are made by between 5 and 100 dedicated activists walking through the streets en route the heart of San Diego from Oceanside Pier. I will never forget the sight of four of us women walking through the streets with a long banner strapped to our shoulders--the human peace caterpillar! Then there are Rebecca and Randy, who come from Scottsdale, Arizona and walk the entire way carrying a peace banner complete with frills and bows and strung to a piece of piping, and who have a daughter in the service. They are incredibly compassionate, a true vision of what CODEPINK is all about to me. I will also remember Bradley's stories about real justice in the streets and never taking life too seriously, and the end of the first day, when the women of Emma's Revolution met with us like magic on a street corner and we all sung, "We believe in peace, salaam, shalom" together. Or the day we crested a hill and I looked to the right to see the ocean lit with golden light--this is the way to be an activist, I remember thinking: walking with meaning alongside one of the most beautiful areas in the world!

The march swells so huge on the morning of the peace rally, when we have only 5 miles to go. We have a police escort that blocks off the freeway off-ramps so we can walk across and continue on our way. We begin to chant when we get into the downtown area and we feed into the Balboa Park rally at the exact same time as the student group who walked from the US-Mexico border converge into the demonstration. This miracle is a beautiful way to end the peace walk. The rally is quite eventful, both on and off the stage, with cheers, speeches, spoken word, lots of demands for CODEPINK gear, and a surprise appearance from my best friend, Kirsten.

I drive back up to Los Angeles with Dana and leave for Tucson in the morning, picking up Adam and driving him to Tucson with me. He and I visit the Tonopah hot springs and have great conversations all the way through the desert, which makes me feel very hydrated with enthusiasm and excitement by the time we reach Tucson at twilight.

March 8, 2005

2005-03-08T00:03:00.000-08:00

International Women's Day:
Chaos. Snow. Coalition skittering together through the flurries. Umbrellas. Signs. Big banner weaving through the Upper East Side. Cold. Wet. Police escort. Pink blur. Soaking boots. Limp flyers. Chattering lips. Women power. Kids and grannies. Plaza, penned in. Megaphone drops. Can't hear the speaker. Huddled close. Too cold. Try to break out of barricade, mindless of group. Must get hot chocolate. Must take off wet socks. Must get inside UN for health, not protest. Police resistance. Dive under barricade. Run to UN. Dry off soggy skin with hand dryer in the basement bathroom. Regroup. Effective? Coalition? Powerful? Snow storm. Cabs. Getting to Caravan of Dreams. Warm food. Table bursting with activist friends. Real change is at the table sometimes, not on the streets.

Later, Wangari Maathai--Nobel Peace Prize winner--speaking, podium, colorful clothes, real inspiration, grounded, tree planting, scrambling for tshirt sales, pseudo-ushering, camera for zoom photos.

Out for drinks with the gang, or half of it, while the others go to the party. Margaritas: bittersweet celebration. Over.

Remaining days in NYC recouping, analyzing, getting ready to leave again, drafting event planning sheets, Young Democrat Socialists conference at high school, flight home with Sam. Leaving. Arriving in Oakland and getting picked up by parents. Homecoming? Springtime.

Activist Training Camp and Women's Writes Poetry Slam

2005-03-06T22:47:00.000-08:00

On Sunday, we host an Activist Training Camp at Barnard College. There are workshops on art and activism, anti-oppression, youth activism, high-profile actions, to name just a few. The trainers are phenomenal and the all-women group is one of the most ethincally and generationally diverse crowds that I have seen at a "peace event" in a long time. The attendance is too low to consider the event a true success, but throughout the organizing process I have learned immensely and I continue to learn from the powerful connections I make with the participants at the training, particularly with the youth in the youth activism workshop that I co-facilitate with Ariel and Adrienne.

In the evening, we have a Women's Writes Poetry Slam at the campus theater. Again, attendance is low. But energy is high: Morley's songs, especially "Women of Hope," reverberate through the black box space; Queen's "tight jeans" spoken words cuts through the room; Reno and her K-9 companion have everyone laughing in tears; Ariel and I share a poem; Bonnie gives me a new sense of what it means to have courage and to transform reality; Hershelle is so real that the room stops breathing for a second; Ellen brings Palestine into the room--a big family that takes up a lot of space, on stage and inside our souls; and more...
The collaboration with Sacred Slam produces a beautiful event, and I feel that even if the room isn't packed with bodies, it is filled with dancing souls.

CODEPINK Convergence at Crobar

2005-03-05T22:46:00.000-08:00

About 20 Codepinkers gather to meet and greet and make hot pink sandwich board signs... followed by Ariel, Emily, and I grabbing Indian food to go and driving to the Women's Environment and Development Organization (WEDO) office for a full night of work and delerium. That night Ariel and I don't sleep--we're up organizing, planning, typing, printing, making photocopies, programs, toolkits, and finally we return to Molly's house and write our poem about jealousy and sisterhood. Dawn breaks and scatters grey light through the airshaft, and then we are off for the first full day of activities...

UN Banner Drop

2005-03-04T23:46:00.000-08:00

After staying up all night to cut, sew, and letter a banner in Molly's hallway, a group of rockin' CODEPINK New Yorkers and Ariel and I head over to the Church Center and secure the banner on the railing on the third floor. It's very visible and looks out over the UN. Though it is later "torn apart" by the process and detail issues, I am very proud of the banner that we managed to put together with so little resources and womanpower. We inspire the local women to contine to do banner drops.

Global Week of Action for Women's Rights

2005-03-03T22:01:00.000-08:00

And here, because I am blogging for past events, I will use the past tense:

For the past five weeks, I have been focused on organizing events for the Global Week of Action for Women's Rights. The week, which arrives in March, Women's Herstory Month, is centered around International Women's Day, March 8, and the UN Beijing + 10 Review, an international conference by the Commision on the Status of Women (CSW) to review and re-ratify the Beijing Platform for Action. I spend the month working with my holy goddess soul sister Ariel and a woman named Emily who is a Yale graduate, a WILPF (Women's International League of Peace and Freedom) intern, and an eastcoaster by origin. The three of us also work with Nancy from Codepink NY. Our task is to integrate the international women's events inside the UN with the organizations and indivudals that compose the NYC community; in other words, we're to forge an inside-outside bridge linking women together the Codepink way: with creativity, originality, and lasting impact. Our planning team struggled with communication between the supervising staff and the NY crew, and the limited planning time made booking spaces for events challenging. In the end, we planned some all-star events, and we learned a lot about grassroots organizing. With the information I gathered from the planning, particularly from the pitfalls, I have constructed a CODEPINK event planning guide and form, which I hope will be useful in the future.

Over the month and a half that I am in NYC, I perfect the soon-to-be Olympic sport of couch surfing. I stay with old and new friends and cultivate some absolutely incredible bonds. In the post-college world, as with any massive life change, one can never be certain which friendships will last and which will fade and perhaps resurface again later. My month in NYC was a great blessing of friendship. In the darkest months of the year, the time when I have most feared being in the concrete complex of Manhattan, my friends opened their doors and invited me into their circles of light and warmth. I slept on the pink sectional couch from my old apartment at Hila's house. I shared a futon with Kyla at her parent's apartment and helped her move into her Brooklyn brownstone. I spent a shabbat and a weekend at Sarah Chandler's house with Ariel, eating bagel breakfasts and celebrating valentine's day with rose petals. I spent an evening with Sarah, the woman who is currently co-facilitating Students Against Silence, and we ate desserts at Lalo's and returned to her dorm where I slept on the futon. There are three most memorable experiences. First, I spent ten days housesitting for Karina while she was in Australia. She has an incredible studio apartment in Chelsea which is filled with light, Central American artwork, and good spirits. It was wonderful to live downtown, to have my own place, to savor the city in this way. Secondly, I spent a weekend and several more days at Malia's home in the west 70s. Malia has an apartment that is splendidly large, inviting, and feels very west-coasty to me. I slept on the most comfortable sofa couch I have ever slept on and awoke to streams of light filtering through stained glass windows and real wooden shutters. Malia and I stayed up late talking and watching parts of pirated movies and I discovered a life-long friend and goddess in Malia, whose radiant soul and firey presence illuminated my time in NYC. And lastly, I spent nearly two weeks at Molly's apartment in the west 100s. Molly gave me a spare key to her house and bade me go as I please, and she generously offered me Fresh Direct peanut butter, which I am now, thanks to her, addicted to. Molly is for sure one of the greatest people I have ever met, and I already knew that. But what I didn't know was the extent of the gift of her friendship. She made me laugh countless times, especially when she, her boyfriend Wylie, and I hung out. Imagine Dr. Drew and Adam, only Dr. Drew is a woman who is fiercly humorous and serious at the same time, and Adam is also an artist who paints large canvases with splashy colors and creates webpages. I really felt at home at Molly's house, and by the end of my stay, when I was boarding the Blue Van outside the Broadmoore and saying farewell "seeyoulaters" to Molly and Wylie, I felt like I was parting with family. Molly's apartment building is especially cool because there is a rooftop solarium with wireless internet access and a view of the entire city. I spent many a day e-mailing and working from the roof, and even brought up a sewing machine to sew the large pink satin banner for Codepink. Molly also has a film projector and a bed with a hotelesque mattress and friends who sometimes crash at her house in the middle of the night. So her house is obviously a great place to stay. But it is superb primarily because I got to spend so much time with Molly, hanging out, eating zen pizza with lots of garlic, planning the reform of the way we look at mental health in this country, celebrating Molly's summer plans for Florence, and even sharing my last night in the city with friends and Wylie's white russians. All this couch surfing taught me a thing or two about packing light and gave me an opportunity to really test drive my Ex-Officio "17 countries, 1 pair of underwear" quick-drying undergarments. I learned some crafty ways to find free food, internet, and land line access in the city in my post-college days. And I really felt grounded on the island, emerging from subways and knowing instantly where I was headed. And, I faced my anxieties about NY wintertime. You see, my friends make it hard for me to be down in NYC. If I was seasonally affective before, then I have finally found the cure: Friends who embody a springtime spirit and wrap me in a warm and nurturing environment.

The event highlights for the Global week of Action follow in the next blogs.

One of the all-time best nights in New York City

2005-02-12T15:49:00.000-08:00

At night, I drive north to west 149th and St. Nicholas in Harlem, where I meet up with Scott and Sam for what evolves into one of my top ten New York City Nights: It is African night at St. Nick’s pub, which is renowned for its live jazz performances and community feel. Tonight, Kaissa, a beauituful, tall, black woman with a voice that sages my bloodstream and awakens the passions, and her band are performing. Kaissa’s songs, inspired by her Cameroon roots, fill the bar with a sweet and potent air, and I become mesmerized. As the night morphs into early morning, different men approach the stage and add their music to the cacophony of sound—a harmonica player from Louisiana, a slam poet with wavy hair and harsh words, a rock n roll bassist, and a slow, melodic trumpet player whose body overfills his seat, where he remains for his soulful performance. The entire bar seems to be swaying and jamming with Kaissa and her band.

After the music winds down, Scott and I leave, and several highways and cross-streets later, we find ourselves parked at the Fulton Fish Market, the early morning market that serves the seafood needs of the five borough’s restaurants. In a gigantic parking lot there are open warehouses where boxes of fish are rolling out, stacked up like miniature skyscrapers, splayed open to reveal neon yellow stripped snapper and twenty pound salmon.

What fascinates me is that the entire time we are at the fish market, perusing the different vendor’s sea offerings and drifting between the rows of boxes, I only see men. We meet one female photography student who seems very excited to see us, as in our plain street clothes we stand out as something of a spectacle. Indeed, I feel like a spectacle. Each man eyes me with desire in his eyes, sizing up my frame, glancing at Scott, approaching me with fish offers. My pink CodePINK Women for Peace button is affixed to my black jacket and seems to stand out like a giant “LOOK AT ME” sign. Several men approach me to talk about the organization, my work, the movement, and the current political situation. I am intrigued by these conversations. With some of the men, I know that my mere presence as a female at four in the morning at the fish market is what has prompted the conversation. Yet with others, the exchange is meaningful and friendly, and leads me to believe that this is where we need to be building our national coalition—at the fish markets, in the streets, on the subways, etc. The whole experience is enchanting, as if we are drifting through an alternate reality, the world of fish sales, the Manhattan lair of nocturnal men shoveling containers of dead, scaley creatures around on forklifts. At the end of the market, we huddle around a fire that is blazing out of an oil drum, fed by broken bits of wooden crates. And then we depart, and once again we are driving through the haunted, vacant downtown streets, passing by that gaping hole in the ground where the Towers of Babel once stood, before the invisible hand revealed itself in a violent act of unjustifiable retribution.

Scott and I go to the radio station at Columbia U, where Scott’s brother DJs his first jazz show. The night ends in a delirium to the soundtrack of Sinatra’s Cheek to Cheek and I drive back to Chelsea, for the morning’s driving and parking fiasco. The day bleeds into Friday, during which I dine at Pistichi with the Pauls for an excellent pot of mussels and the best company one can find. Sitting at the small wooden table with Scott, Jordan, and Amy, surrounded by the familiar restaurant and waiters, and eating the best salad ever, Claremont Ave. feels like home again. Friday night I go up to White Plains and have dinner with my uncle and company at a hibachi restaurant that serves fireballs and volcanoes made out of onion rings and more fire.

Chinese New Year and More

2005-02-07T15:52:00.000-08:00

This is what’s happening during my third week in New York City:

* Ariel and I rock out in proposal land all day Sunday, planning actions in the near future, and peace projects for the far future. Sitting on the couch, we devise movements and design cross-country journeys. At four p.m. on a sunsplashed Manhattan afternoon, anything seems possible. And indeed, perhaps, it is.

* Ariel and I go to Emily’s Superbowl party where we eat vegan philly cheesesteak sandwiches and perform the best halftime show ever. ‘Nuf said.

* One afternoon, Kyla, Ariel, and I wind our way through the congested streets of Chinatown, our feet scuffling through heaps of confetti and streamers, our path occasionally interrupted by long dragons. At an intersection, we hear loud blasts and see a cloud of smoke waft around a corner. All at once we are all running towards the noise, and I am thinking that if we were in almost any other country, we would be running away in terror. But this is Chinese New Year in New York City, and we are all eager to be asphyxiated with the bluish clouds of firework smoke that hover over the asphalt. We emerge on the other side of the smoke and we race through the crowded streets, pausing only to engage in a hopeful conversation with the National Guard troops, who tell us they are grateful for our friendly approach, and interested in CodePINK because they don’t believe in the war either. Dialogue is different from animosity. Then we are back on the hunt for food again and finally we land at a Buddhist vegetarian Asian food restaurant where we receive plates heaped with tofu and veggies and brown rice and spicy soups and dumplings. And we dine and talk politics and poetics and I recognize that I am with two of my best girlfriends and sit back to bask in their glow.

* I work the coatcheck and meet several incredible women.

* Meetings, meetings, more meetings, some CodePINK, some Barnard, some coalition building. Productive. Flourescent lights. Lots of e-mailing.

There are no strangers here

2005-02-01T14:52:00.000-08:00

I move into Karina’s apartment: a spacious studio Chelsea that feels like a home the instant I walk in. It feels incredible to be grounded in one place for over a week. And for the next ten days, I spend my nights in this apartment, e-mailing, planning out the next month, writing proposals, and savoring a few cups of steaming solitude, served with tangy lemon and clover honey. It is good to be able to explore the idea of living alone, although, of course, I am everyday seeing old friends and making new ones, and there are spirits at my side most of the time. Still, late at night I sit wholly engrossed in Coehlo’s books, with tea and Maná playing on the stereo, and I feel solid.

Tuesday evening, I meet with Khiang. This is a remarkable story that I will someday tell someone’s grandchildren (maybe my own, but who can know these things?). Almost exactly one year ago, I was sitting in the Hungarian Pastry Shop pounding the keys on my laptop into semblances of poems and my thesis paper, immersed in my final semester of college. Through the blare of the computer screen and the buzz from an almond coffee, I make out bright images of far away places being passed back and forth between the two men seated at the table to my left. We are all seated very close together—such is the setting of the Hungarian, into which New Yorkers are stuffed into small chairs at even smaller tables, digesting pastries, philosophies, and homework—and yet still I feel as though I am in a separate bubble from them, distanced by the miles of Unknown factors that create the illusory idea of “strangers.” Finally, the two men get up to leave, and pause at the counter to settle their bill. I get up to refill my mug, and decide to burst my bubble by approaching the man with the photographs. I compliment him on his artistry, and, to my surprise, he smiles and gives me his card.

Thus begins a year of emailing back and forth, during which we each learn tidbits about each other’s lives, and vow to meet again over tea the next time we are both in the city. That day arrives on this day on which I write to share the story of the reunion. We meet in the Hungarian and delve into conversations about art, education, international politics, travel, Tibetan brothels, university courses, American activism, women’s movements, Holland and Cambodia, and more. After two hours, I am not ready to leave, but I depart anyway for dinner. Khiang gives me a packet of Dutch waffles as we part, and we decide to meet again for tea soon. This is the tale which evermore will inspire me to act on my impulses to meet interesting people.

Later that night, Students Against Silence has a reunion dinner at a little Italian spot near the university. We all clamor around a very long rectangular table in the back room and spread our humor, political angst, school dramas, and personal dilemmas over baguettes oiled with garlic and vinegar. The combination of all these kindred souls and the rich food, with a few sips of red wine in between, creates a delectable, euphoric sensation in my whole body. We are, each of us, and collectively, one of the most outstanding collections of human beings I have ever experienced in a single moment.

Manhattan Overture

2005-01-26T14:27:00.001-08:00

In the morning, I meet Sam's sister, Sheree, who has a tender friendliness and who, with my enormous gratitude, lends me her car, which happens to be the same make, model, and year of my car in California, for the time that I am in New York. Sam, Sheree, and I sit at the kitchen table and eat heaping spoonfulls of ripe papaya before Sam departs with her cousin for her next cross-country voyage, and I make my way up the Jersey Turnpike to Manhattan.

During my first week in New York, I practice one of the best team sports ever invented: couch surfing. I feel like such a winner, as I get to stay with Hila, Kyla, Sarah, and Malia, in whose homes I spend several blissful nights sleeping on the best pull out sofa bed ever created. I spend time playing with toddlers (babysitting, but who ever wanted to sit on a baby?); I get free vegan pizza downtown at two a.m.; I am greeted by Dennis and the Barnard community and allowed to use the computers and phones as an office base (It seems that I am a technically “homeless” person with homes everywhere.) I get to attend a class in the newly created Wellness course whose syllabus was largely created by Molly and I. I get chocolate covered strawberries at Café Lalo and befriend Orange, who is interested in CodePINK. My cell phone dies and I am forced into several days without the little vibrating gadget constantly dangling from my pockets, which in the end is rather pleasant, though it is difficult work-wise. The week is a chaos of action and sights and sounds, a slow settling into the peace manhattan has to offer.

Brooklyn: Ice Cream on Snow

2005-01-25T14:25:00.000-08:00

Sam and I make our way through hustling Brooklyn streets, Jewish delis, sidewalks littered with advertisements for the divine teachings of the Rebbe, beat up cars poking their crooked fenders out from piles of snow, subway stops in seemingly abandoned buildings. We go to the edge of the jungle, where the water laps over the rusty rocks and the debris, and we take a pint of soy ice cream out of the back of the truck (which simultaneously serves as a large freezer in the winter conditions) and climb over a footbridge to sit on a park bench and savor the morning. Cold chocolate, a flock of birds floating on the sparkling ocean, and Sam besides me. A form of paradise. My boots are entirely covered by the bright white snow and I have the sensation that my body is floating on the park bench two feet above the earth. In this case, the woman sitting next to me, resting her legs on top of the snow bank, appears to me as an angel. Her cheeks are rosy and she is talking about female leadership, political evolution, family, and telling me all sorts of stories. This is one of those “dayenu” moments, when, if for nothing else, all of creation is enough. On our way back over the pedestrian bridge over the parkway, we grab trash can lids and sled down, both of us bruising our bottoms and yelping with glee.

We emerge into lower Manhattan later that day, and I am instantly absorbed back into the forest of bricks, the yellow river of taxis, the colorful humans converging in lines on the sidewalks like ant paths. That night I go to a Tu B’Shevat seder, where I discover a group of mostly liberal-minded Jews crammed into a banquet setting at the JCC. While the general program leaves something of inspiration to be desired, the friendly faces I am greeted by let me know that this trip to New York will be different than any I have ever experienced.